We Can't Control Change, But We Can Learn To Trust It

​I stood on the overlook and looked out at the mountaintop covered with overnight snow. Then, I let my eyes follow the clearly drawn line that ran for miles down the ridge, defining where temperatures allowed for snow and where they insisted there would be none.

I thought, this is life. There is often such a sharp edge between one season and the next. Life can feel a way one day, and then feel completely unrecognizable the next.

And like the mountain, we can often have such little say in that shift.

I couldn't help but notice just how accepting the mountain seemed to be with this. As if that is the character of the mountain, to know that its life will be made up of many sudden shifts. And that the mountains role isn't to control that, but to make beauty of it in any way it can.

Such sharp contrast I was looking at. Seasons at war in a way. And yet, it looked like such peace.

As I stared at the line, I realized this wasn’t a picture of seasons in conflict - it was a picture of seasons held together. Both the frost and the thaw were resting in the same hands. Both were part of a story far bigger than the moment I was looking at.

And maybe that’s why it felt like peace.

Because God doesn’t ask the seasons to agree with each other, only to trust Him enough to let Him use them both.