Winter Looks Different On Every Life
Trusting What God Is Doing Beneath the Surface
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1
It is winter.
And as I look around,
I’m struck by how differently life responds to this season.
Some trees stand bare—
every leaf released,
every branch exposed.
Others hold onto their leaves through the cold—
dry, weathered,
not yet fallen,
waiting for spring to replace what remains.
And some trees never lose their leaves at all.
They stay green,
quietly steady,
unchanged on the surface.
All are responding to the same winter.
All are doing exactly what they were created to do.
How God Wires Us for Seasons
We often assume there is one right way to endure a hard season.
To let go quickly.
To grieve neatly.
To look strong.
To show progress.
But creation refuses that simplicity.
God designs life with difference—
different root systems,
different rhythms,
different ways of conserving life when conditions are harsh.
What looks like barrenness in one life
may be deep rest in another.
What looks like clinging
may be wisdom—waiting for renewal rather than forcing release.
What looks unchanged
may be strength quietly holding ground.
Why Winter Is Not the Time to Judge
Winter hides more than it reveals.
From the outside,
we cannot see which roots are deepening,
which systems are storing energy,
which branches are being protected for what comes next.
And so winter is a dangerous season for conclusions.
When we judge another person’s pace, posture, or process,
we often mistake difference for dysfunction.
But we are not them.
And God has not made us alike.
What Spring Alone Can Tell Us
Spring does not rush explanations.
It reveals.
Only spring shows
which branches were pruned for fruit,
which leaves were held until replacement arrived,
and which trees were never dormant at all.
Winter work is hidden work.
Jesus spoke of this when He said,
“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.”
What looks like loss
may be preparation.
What looks like stillness
may be gathering life.
Resurrection does not announce itself in winter.
It rises—quietly—when the time is right.
Reflection
Where have I been tempted to judge what I cannot yet see?
How might Jesus be honoring hidden work in my own life right now?
What would it look like to trust the timing of spring—mine or another’s?
Prayer
Abba Father, teach me patience with seasons that conceal more than they show. Give me grace for my own winter and humility toward the winters of others. Help me trust the life You are quietly bringing forth. Amen.