June has a way of sneaking up on me. It always leaves me a little restless. Maybe it's all the years of school, but June feels more like a year-end than December ever does. Seasons always make me wonder. Maybe it's the part of me that's slightly averse to change that likes the consistent, predictable shifting of the seasons. They may come faster than we expected, but they're never a shock. We never have to wonder what will follow winter. (I live in Houston, so I'm not even talking about impressive seasonal changes. I'm talking cool fronts for winter and crazy storms for spring and scorching hot summer days and fall is, well, rather elusive.)
But they're still seasons. The sun still sleeps earlier in the colder months and then lingers longer after dinner as June approaches. Houston summers at 8pm are one of my favorite things. It surprises me every year, but it's familiar too.
And it makes me hope in a God who is consistent and unchanging without ever growing dull.
Come and surprise us this summer, Lord.
May we find You faithful in the familiar. May we find You faithful in the new.
May the predictable shifting of seasons remind us that You are steadfast even in change.
May we find in You a childlike joy as summer slows us down.
May we find fun again and remember that just because we have grown up, we need not grow boring.
May we let the longer light lure us into Your shade.
And may we find You there. May we find You here--right here, in this intersection of seasons, where we've been so many times, but also never been before.
We're so familiar with summer that we risk missing this one, Lord. And maybe we're so familiar with You that we risk missing You too.
Please don't let us. Oh, Lord, we turn our eyes toward this summer sun, and we beg to see Your face.
Meet us here. Right here. Where the new meets the familiar. And let us love you more in this season than we have in any season before.
Let this summer sear Your mark on us.