Fred lost his brother last week. “Ron ” was over 2 years older than Fred. But Fred had always been the “big” brother to Ron. Ron was the runt of the litter as a little kid; very bright, wore big glasses, and small for his age, and the last pick for sides in sandlot baseball. Fred was always protecting and looking out for his “little/big” bro. Fred’s loss will be felt for the rest of his life.
All of us have experienced losses, whether they were spouses, relatives, grandparents, children, or friendships. The first time we lose anyone, we begin to get a grasp on sorrow, and death. And as we lose more and more loved ones, we begin to also realize that each traumatic departure changes us.
And if you consider our lives as a pie, divided into a hundred sections, then you can understand that with each loss or sorrow, one of those sections dies too. We are not the same after a loss, and we needn’t feel guilty or surprised about this fact. It’s called maturing, growing, adapting, coping, and surviving. It depends entirely on the circumstance how many pieces of that pie get expunged.
Some of us lose several sections each time; and that pie is never quite the same morsel that it was before. Loss changes a heart in many ways. Parts of us die.
But there is a scripture and a truth that says that a seed must die before it can bring forth more life.
John 12:24 (NIV) says – “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” In other words, a seed must die to produce fruit. It must resurrect.
Jesus used this poignant example to show that He, the Seed, would die, and with His resurrection there would be fruit multiplied. Every human being is a corruptible seed. This is an entire sermon, but hear where I am going. When we lose someone, and experience our own partial token of death through that loss, we can expect fruit to emerge somewhere from that loss. We are each a seed. Fred’s brother was a seed, and as a result, we will eventually see some fruit come out of this. We forget to watch for that. Hearts change, lives change, and as the pieces of the pie are blotted out with a loss, the rest of the pieces of the pie enlarge and expand. In other words, we grow. And the death of that dear one begins to make changes in others who were affected as well.
Good fruit abounds in each of us from the loss, if we let it.
Now, we can observe the same principle in the seasons, Looking at cold, dead, winter, we are beginning to see its demise. Ugly bare trees are skeletons, the grass is brittle and brown. The crops lay dormant in brown fields. The days have been darker, and the sun has hidden from us.
Whoa. Dead.
And then, spring erupts. Little green buds burst out on the branches. Cows birth calves, fields turn green with seed finally breaking out, Jonquils and tulips suddenly sprout up and green grass pokes up through the dead residue.
New life emerges, new beauty, new provision, new life! And what is the message for us? Don’t despair, don’t give up. Remember that all seeds must die to produce fruit, many times that seed’s singleness. It’s a truth like gravity is a truth, and we are a part of that cycle. Our sufferings, losses, disappointments, and failures truly bring forth good fruit even when we don’t think so.
Watch for it.
Judi Tabler lives in Pawnee County and is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune. She can be reached at juditabler@gmail.com or juditabler@awomansview.
