Guest Post: Strength for the Silent Season

This is the season of silence.

All year, the natural world has been vibrantly alive—a rich symphony of sound and color and movement. In spring, the woods don the filmy chartreuse of new leaves and welcome migratory birds back from tropical regions. As the days stretch into summer, the trees provide a shady shelter where hundreds of insects click in the lazy afternoons and newborn fawns romp, flashing their dazzling white spots. Even in autumn, the season of descent, the woods are still alive—lavish displays of color, arching antlers of nimble bucks, pale grace of birches, and the last faded leaves floating gently downstream as the wild geese cry overhead.

But now, as fall slips into winter,
all the life seems to have leaked away.

The chorus of frogs and insects and birds has fallen silent; the only sound is the wandering wind in the barren treetops, with perhaps an occasional twitter from the hardy winter sparrows or the mournful moan of an owl. And as sound is muted, color is too. The world is washed in neutral hues…beige of withered grass, stark silver of leafless trunks, rusty brown of fallen leaves. Even the sunlight seems weakened and watery, as if the year of life and birth and beauty has left all creation too tired to do anything but sleep and dream of what once was.

And when the woods sing a slower cadence, it’s easy to assume that only death has descended on this landscape, that these bleak and bitter days hold no hope. But in actuality, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Despite all appearances, here in this moment we least expect it, hope is breaking through.

As unbelievable as it sounds, right now, this “dead” winter forest is actually setting the stage for abundant life. The sap is circulating in the trees; many of them have already set leaf buds, the embryos of next season’s foliage, perched on the deadened branches like patient reminders that winter will not have the last word. Those fawns whose antics I enjoy each summer are, like most of the season’s offspring, still being knit by the Maker’s hands through these winter days. The world is preparing for spring in ways we don’t recognize—forging this promise of grace and growth in the womb of winter.

Yes, I see the truth all around me: life emerges from the most unexpected of seasons. And this isn’t just a description of the December forest; it’s assurance for our souls as well.

You see, when we look around at our own winter worlds, it’s easy to lose sight of God’s healing hands. We experience disappointment and believe our story is shattered. We see unanswered prayers and conclude our pleas are going unheard. We wrestle with longstanding pain or frustration or heartache, and we become convinced God doesn’t care.

But make no mistake: God is working—even and especially in the times when we are sure He is not. The God Who nurtures spring under the silent surface of winter is still accomplishing His purposes in ways that often go unseen until they’re completed. So before we assume that He’s not present in our winter woe, that there’s no way our frozen fragments could lead to the smile of spring, we must first pause and consider that the problem may be not that God’s plan is stalled but that our perception is skewed. Perhaps, just perhaps, there are still miracles all around us—and we’re just not recognizing them.

There’s no better reminder of this than the upcoming Christmas season. The Old Testament ends with this proclamation from God:

“Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes”
(Malachi 4:5 ESV)

For four hundred years, the Jews clung to this hope. Yet when a long-haired desert dweller named John the Baptist began preaching repentance up and down the Jordan, no one thought to associate him with the power and ministry of the Old Testament prophet Elijah. Jesus’ own disciples, upon becoming convinced that He was the Messiah, asked,

“Then why do the scribes say that first Elijah must come?”
(Matthew 17:10 ESV)

Jesus’ response gives us pause:

“Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him” (Matthew 17:12a ESV).

God’s plan was unfolding, but it didn’t match the people’s expectations—so they missed the miracle.

Of course, the most powerful example of this is Jesus Himself. Devout students of the ancient prophecies believed that the Messiah would be a conquering hero, blazing in to save the people from their enemies. Even the Magi, searching for the Son of God, made their first stop the palace in Jerusalem! But Jesus didn’t come as the warrior-king; He came as the Servant. God’s plan didn’t look like a blazing trumpet and a splitting of the sky; it looked like a Man stretched cruciform with nail-pierced hands.

Friends, don’t forget this today.

When I shuffle through last autumn’s leaves, when I glimpse the deer in their muted winter coats, when I wander by ice-encrusted streams so silent that I can almost hear the slow breaths of the dreaming earth, I’m reminded that God is still working in the very places that look most lifeless—in the frozen forest, and in the cracking corners of my own world. And Christmas reminds me that God’s plan unfolds in unexpected ways. Let’s not miss our miracle because it doesn’t match the image we have in mind. Let’s trust that God is working—even if His plan looks different from ours. And let’s cling to this truth today, the truth that Christmas brings us: no matter what winter has come to our worlds, God is working through every season of suffering to once more irradiate our lives with the hope of spring.

ABOUT ASHLYN:

A passionate follower of Jesus Christ, Ashlyn McKayla Ohm finds her writing calling where her heart for God and her love for His creation intersect. Born and raised in rural Arkansas on the shoulders of the Ouachita Mountains, she’s most at home where the streetlights die and the pavement ends. She finds joy in weaving words into messages of hope and healing and is forever grateful that God has given her the gift of not only exploring His beautiful world but also using her words to prayerfully draw others to Him. She shares her writing on her blog, Words from the Wilderness, and also in her recently published book- A Year in the Woods: 52 Weeks of Grace, Growth, and the Glory of God. It’s a collection of nature-themed weekly devotionals designed to take you on a journey through the seasons…marveling at the mystery of Midsummer, glimpsing the call to courage in the first daffodil blooms, celebrating the redemptive message of the changing leaves, embracing the silence of the winter woods, and most of all, worshipping the Great Artist whose fingerprints adorn every detail of His wonderful world. You can get a copy directly on her website here!