BLOG ARTICLE

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

The church year is marked by seasons.

Seasons of remembering, of re-enacting, of re-envisioning the hope of the gospel of Christ.

Year after year, the church intentionally enters the movements of Jesus’s and the work of God in the world:

Advent,

Christmas

Epiphany

Lent

Easter

Pentecost

Here, in these seasons, we remind each other of events that have changed the trajectory of the cosmos:

the coming birth of a saviour (Advent),

his incarnation that shouts, “God is with us” (Christmas),

the unveiling of the saviour’s identity—the King of all (Epiphany),

the approach of his looming death that resounds with impending darkness (Lent),

the hour of his descent into death on a cross and his victorious triumph in resurrection (Easter),

and the arrival of His promised gift of Holy Spirit to empower, gather and set free (Pentecost).

Year after year the calendar repeats.

Year,

after,

year.

And yet, this calendar of repeated event and expectation ultimately reminds us of a limit. The seasons cannot hold all things as one.

The repetition reminds us that something is still yet expected. We have not yet arrived. Event and remembrance repeat, signalling a greater fulfilment yet to come.

An event that will envelop all these rhythmic remembrances into a cosmic calendar that surpasses and fulfils all our longings.

That great day when the Lord God of all calendars and times will envelop us in a season that encompasses all seasons.

The Apostle John was taken, in the Spirit, to that future season now written down in the book of Revelation.

“Then he showed me the river of living water, sparkling like crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the broad street of the city. The tree of life was on both sides of the river, bearing kinds of fruit, producing its fruit every month. The leaves of the tree are for healing the nations.” Revelation 22:1-2

John, in his vision, saw the eternal season—where no longer there is the limit of one season that requires another to complete it, where winter cannot keep its snowflake but must yield to the bloom of spring, and where no longer is there the waiting remembrance of Epiphany or Lent or Easter. Here, beside the river of living water is fruit in every month, in a season that holds healing in abundance and all promise in unity.

Oh, this day—when He is all in all—and all the seasons are wrapped up in fulfilment, and we no longer remind one another of what is still awaited.

But for now, this week, let us mark our foreheads again with the ash of Wednesday to commence the season of Lent. Let us repeat the ancient rhythm of our hope until that blessed day, all the while crying—Come, Lord Jesus!