Fireweed and Mt. Jefferson (photo by Jessie Johnson)
When I hear the word “cycle,” middle school science class comes to mind, with the life-cycle of an organism. Whether plant or animal, the cycle always includes death. So really, we should call it a “life and death cycle.” But that’s too depressing. Or too wordy. Or both.
Anyway, we all know that death is a part of life. But that’s really hard to accept sometimes. Death is the end of something. That thing is no longer alive, and that is sad. Really, really sad sometimes, especially when it’s a loved one. I haven’t yet lost anyone to death that was really close to me, but I’ve been told you never really stop grieving completely. In a lesser but still meaningful way, the death could be of a place or an item or a job that we cherished, lost to natural disaster or the economy, or death of a dream we’ve had to give up or grieve.
I’m currently grieving that last one, and I’ve done it before. It is very difficult in this stage to see the next one, the new-growth stage that comes after the death of something. But I am reminded of the beautiful passage in Isaiah chapter 61, verses 1-3. It says in the NIV translation:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
I don’t know about you, but between my personal current grief and the state of the world, I am very tempted to despair. But I hold onto the promises in this passage, and I believe that God has given us signs of this in nature.
Last summer, I went hiking with a friend to Jefferson Park, a gorgeous meadow on the flanks of Mt. Jefferson. The trail had just reopened after a few years of being closed due to a previous wildfire. We hiked through woods that seemed to contain nothing more than the ghostly remains of trees. We could see the devastation all around us. But soon we saw things that we wouldn’t have seen if we’d hiked there before the fire. Open views of the majestic Mt. Jefferson were available to us between the burned trees, where previously the evergreens would have blocked the views. And in several patches, this giant, bright pink flower grew on the forest floor. Later I asked a friend who used to work for the forest service about it--she said it’s called Fireweed.
Then I understood. This flower is the plant world’s phoenix, rising from the ashes of the wildfire. And it was beautiful.
It seems like every time I go to a memorial service for someone I knew, I find out about someone else I know having a baby. The new birth does not cancel the grief from the death, no more than the pretty fireweed undoes the devastation of the forest. But both of these examples of the life-cycle give me hope. God doesn’t promise to keep us from experiencing death or loss. But in the passage above, He does promise to comfort us in our mourning and bring new joy.
Oregon is still mourning the losses of land and homes and even people from last year’s wildfires, including the beautiful Jefferson Park that I made it to just in time last summer. This year is looking to cause as much or more damage. I am not saying we should be happy for tragedy and grief because of a joy that is to come. But, we can rejoice in the hope that God will comfort us, and that he promises to raise something beautiful from the ashes in our lives.
For a couple of songs inspired by this passage that bring me much comfort, check out these links.
About the Author
Jessie is an educator, she currently teaches teens and has taught overseas. She is also a novice writer, with several books in various stages and a (long-neglected) blog about the journeys of women. She is very excited to be a part of the CitySalt blog team. She has been blessed by a few communities of Christian writers that have encouraged her dream. She lives with her trusty sidekick cat, Arwen in the foothills of South Eugene, where she can go hiking within minutes of the sun coming out from behind the clouds.