An Early Winter

Every Thursday I’ll post an article having to do with either relational or emotional matters. Hope it helps.

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An Early Winter

Do your diligence to come before winter. (II Timothy 4:21)

Chuck Swindoll spotted a volume of insight in Paul’s brief request to Timothy cited above, basing his book Come Before Winter on what he’d gleaned from the aging apostle’s thoughts. It’s a moving read, one of Swindoll’s best to my thinking, reminding us to hear the yearnings that family and friends try to express. Indeed, the very phrase “Come Before Winter” indicates that the asker is facing an impending time of cold gray, hoping another will respond by being there, coming alongside when life gets barren and bleak. Fair request; very human.

Trouble is, winter’s not so cooperative as to let us know its arrival time. Seasonal winter, yes, but winter of the soul? No. No calendar there, no schedule to go by. It comes with a mind of its own, gusting in without announcement and enveloping us, changing everything and forcing concessions, accommodations, even suspension of regular activity. An accident, a loved one’s sudden erratic behavior, an unanticipated disease, or abrupt financial loss can all constitute a sudden season of bleakness. We no more get to choose its timing than we get to pick a snowstorm’s and, like an overarching temperature dip, it says Ready or Not Here I Come.

It’s an early winter for some. I just got news of a dear friend who’s lost a precious child; another who, as of mere days ago, has been abruptly widowed. You have your list too, I know, of things affecting people who matter, calling out your compassion and desire to help, while reminding you of how little it seems you can really do for anyone in such a case. Winter happens, and it simply doesn’t care how we feel about it.

All of which reminds me how much more carefully I need to listen. Timothy could have heard only the content of his mentor’s instructions (“Do your diligence to come before winter”) without hearing the heart (“Be with me before the grey sets in. I need your warmth”) but, knowing a bit about the man, I doubt he missed Paul’s meaning. I want to say the same of myself. I don’t want to miss the meaning behind a friend reminding me we haven’t had lunch in months, or taken time to really talk, because the subtext could well be Remember when you said we’re friends? I need one, so be one. Nor do I want to let my wife or son express a need through their tone that goes over my distracted, way too busy head. Because someone I love may be facing a winter they’ve not yet told me about and I, limited to my linear calendar, am clueless. So if that someone signals a storm warning I want to be the first responder.

Of course, they may get no such warning themselves. More than half of what God allows life to throw at us is earthquake quick, out of nowhere and jolting. What then?

I know when one body part is injured, the hands normally respond by covering it. Interesting to think about, because the covering by no means heals the wound, but there’s something soothing about one part connecting with the other in solidarity over an injury, even if the connection itself cannot undo the trauma. So I’ve learned and am learning the hard way that being there in helpless concern does in fact help, and admitting a total inability to provide an answer is just the answer an injured party often needs.

When a woman or man in pain says Come it usually means As You Are as well, no brilliance, solutions or miracle powers required. Just come. Which means, for many of us, just stay in touch, keep the phone calls and e-mails answered and current, take a moment for the quick hello and carve out the time to create then invest in genuine intimacy. There’s huge and indescribable reward in that alone.

So God grant that all our eyes be opened to need where it exists, responsive to it when it calls, and prepared for it when it thunders in abruptly. Winter is the time God allows in unexplained sovereignty, and it won’t be stopped. But then again, neither will love.