Contrast

I have begun to think more and more about the circumstances of life in terms of contrast (I know you and the Chinese were already doing this and I am just learning it late). Things don’t always make sense until you flip the pancake. For instance, “up” would have no meaning without “down”.  “Go” doesn’t mean anything unless you know to “come”. When we teach little children to read (which is mainly teaching them to think linguistically), we always start with those basic concepts. Even before a child can sound out “big” and “small” phonetically, he can read a little story with picture clues if the concepts are familiar: “The elephant is big” only because “the snail is small.”

The world presents itself to us in dichotomy. Some places are brutally hot and some are deathly cold. For every tree that is old and rotting, there is a seedling that springs new and vital. Then there are those physics laws which we are glad someone discovered but we can no longer recite: For every action there is some kind of reaction of some sort that has an equal opportunity to be opposite. Close enough?

These realities of nature act as basal readers (remember those: Run Spot Run…) to prepare us for our earthly schooling. Sometimes I feel like what I’m going through can only be understood in terms of an opposite. King Solomon (who’s fame lies in naming my blog) got it right when he said that for everything (Turn Turn Turn) there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven. He goes on to name some of those seasons: a time to be born, a time to die, a time to love, a time to hate, a time to scatter, a time to gather together, etc.  And you and I both know those seasons intermingle and overlap.

This morning I was reading the story of Joseph in the Old Testament. I think God can match Tolkien in storytelling (although God doesn’t use as much detail, but His stories are true). Joseph, as you may know, went through some very horrific struggles, being sold by his brothers into slavery then imprisoned on false charges (not unlike Jean Valjean who’s movie I saw yesterday and I highly recommend although the singing is a little off). Joseph was delivered from his enemies, appointed Pharoah’s right hand man and became very prosperous and happy. He named his son Ephraim because “God made me fruitful in the land of my suffering”.

Fruitful in the land of suffering. That was my meditation this morning. Greg died 5 years ago today. This “season” of my life has been a land of suffering at times.  And yet fruit has always covered my table and more than ever I am savoring the sweetness. I relish it because I have tasted the bitter.

It seems the design of the world allows for, and even demands, that opposites coexist. It’s God’s way.