Hilary Paynton "Tree With a Long Memory" |
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones,
and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace,
and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace...
He has made everything beautiful
in its time.
A poem so repetitive it seems simplistic. (And so famous I don't know if anyone "hears" it anymore.) For me it has gone deep. What it clearly says to me is that there is balance. We can expect good times and bad times, and there will be time for both. There will be pain, and we need to give it its time, acknowledge it, feel it, mourn it. And then we need to let it go. Holding it beyond its time is neither helpful or honest. There are new seasons, new things that need time and our attention. There will be happy times, but both the struggles and the joys have meaning and purpose and are important.
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