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It’s the one night that exemplifies summer.  And it’s almost here.

At my home in Arkansas, we are currently experiencing just two minutes shy of a full fifteen hours of sunlight each day.  Nightfall is delayed a bit further every week, and even the late time of 8:00 or 8:15 finds me still able to enjoy outdoor activities without a flashlight. 

It’s remarkable—this stretching of the sun.  And in just five days, on June 20, we’ll welcome the summer solstice—the longest day of the entire year.

The science behind this phenomenon is fascinating.  Because the earth is tilted as it orbits the sun, different areas of the globe receive the most direct rays at different times of the year, creating our seasons.  For the Northern Hemisphere, the summer solstice is the day when the North Pole is angled closest to the sun, making the sun appear its farthest north in the sky on that day.  After the summer solstice, the earth’s orbit makes the sun begin appearing progressively farther south in the sky, until we reach the winter solstice, when the sun is focused instead on the Southern Hemisphere. 

Even knowing the logical explanation for the solstice, people today are still awed by it; solstice celebrations occur every year on this day.  So imagine how intriguing it must have been for ancient cultures with no knowledge of the whys and hows.  Perhaps that’s the reason that the practice of celebrating the solstice is such an archaic one, with roots dating back over four thousand years—right after the dispersal from the Tower of Babel.  And it’s not a local phenomenon, either; observances have been a staple of cultures as diverse as China, England, Norway, India, Iran, Sweden, and Russia, just to name a few.   

Most of these ancient celebrations were startlingly similar.  Fire was one such common element.  People greeted Midsummer with torches, candles, and huge bonfires—in fact, leaping over the burning piles was a popular (if reckless) sport.  Water was another priority—streams and rivers played an important ceremonial role.  And lastly, midsummer practices were interlaced with a good dose of superstition and magic.  On this night, the ancients claimed, the line between the mundane everyday world and the mysterious spiritual one was blurred.  Mythical creatures such as dragons and fairies were believed to roam the earth after nightfall on this evening.  And because of that, anything was possible—from a heightened chance for romance to unexplained mystical phenomena. 

One might have supposed that our modern scientific advancements would have squelched this sense of mystery, stifled the legends, and dimmed the ardor of humans for celebrating this event.  However, the thousands of popular solstice events that occur every year prove that is far from the case.  The romance lives on…because no cut-and-dried explanations can begin to encapsulate the mysticism of this time.

The wonder is found, after all, in the name; our word solstice comes from two Latin roots and literally translates as “sun stand still,” because the sun seems to poise directly overhead.  The whole of the growing season, from the first shy tulip buds in spring to the arrival of the fireflies in mid-June, leads to this day.  And so I stand outdoors on the afternoon of the solstice, and I marvel at the sun swinging so low above my head.  The world seems hushed, somehow—synchronized with the slow-sifting moment.  And sometimes it seems I can feel the tilt of the axis, and the thrill of awe that gripped the ancients shivers along my spine.  For beaming above a world that is so often chaotic and unpredictable is a sun that has faithfully followed its footsteps since the first day its Creator spun it into motion.

But one of the most powerful parts of midsummer is its strange duality.  On one hand, this is an occasion for rejoicing.  After all, summer is at its height.  The melody of growth and birth and life, of birds and grass and blooms, has reached a crescendo.  And this exciting occasion will be punctuated by the longest day—an opportunity for light to far outweigh the darkness.

Yet on the other hand, even as we marvel at the solstice sunshine, we’re keenly aware of a not-as-bright fact—tomorrow there will be a little less daylight than there is today.  The days will shrink just a little each week.  The sun will swing back southerly in the sky, retreating from its northward advancement.  The energy of the growing season will decelerate to the languor of July and finally the slumber of September.  On the solstice, summer will be winning.  But the day after, we will begin an unmistakable and irrevocable trajectory that will take us without fail to the depths of winter.  The bookend to the riot of midsummer is the silence of midwinter.

So is this an occasion for smiles or tears?  Do we rejoice at the sun’s advance or mourn its slow retreat?  I wrestled with this question as I prepared for this blog.  And finally, the answer came in a moment of clarity—we do both.  

You see, it’s my belief that our culture trains us to think of emotions in more streamlined terms than is truly feasible.  We are either happy or sad.  We love someone or we are disappointed in them.  We are excited for the new job or we cry when we clean out our old cubicle.  But in truth, the human heart is much less clear-cut.  It’s not desirable—or even possible!—for us to experience only one emotion at a time. 

In ancient times, this complexity was understood far better than it is now.  As hard as it is for us to believe, ancient people lived in a world far more unpredictable even than our own.  The narrow line between life and death was a tightrope they walked daily.  Yet while there’s ample evidence to demonstrate that their lives were rigorous, dangerous, and often abruptly curtailed, there’s also evidence to show they were by no means colorless or joyless.  Compared to modern observances, ancient rituals were deeply reflective, and it appears that these people could willingly assimilate joy and pain into one observance—not dismissing the more painful aspects but considering them as equally valid. 

For example, just look at the rituals performed in solstice celebrations.  The burning of fires and torches was believed to give life to the sun, in turn making it shine brighter and longer.  However, many solstice celebrations also included lighting a wheel of brush and rolling it down a hill to be extinguished in a river at the bottom.  This action symbolized the surrender of the sun to the darkness as the days shortened.  Both aspects of solstice—the one long day and the shorter ones to follow—were thus honored, without preference or judgment.

And this is why midsummer still speaks to people today.  Yes, the celebrations are fun, and the science is interesting.  But more importantly, midsummer forces us to confront the mixedness of human emotion and experience.  And because of that, it’s one of the most powerful metaphors for something that we often react to in very complicated ways—change.   

You probably won’t be terrified by a dragon prowling after dark, and you might not see fairies dancing in your garden (although if you do come across any mythical beings, be sure to let me know!).  But change?  That’s a creature you’re sure to encounter—and not just at the summer solstice either.

Circumstances are never stagnant; indeed, tectonic shifts are constantly shuddering through our lives in a thousand ways.  We get the new job.  We fall in love.  We have a child.  We lose a family member.  

Just as the sun is constantly shifting position in the sky, our lives never stall in the same place for very long.  Sometimes, change comes in a jolt—a sudden wrenching of everything we thought we believed.  Other times, change is more gradual; like the progressive lengthening and shortening of the days, we may not even notice it at first.  But regardless of whether the change is expected or unforeseen, inconspicuous or obvious, temporary or permanent, it still requires a stretch in our souls, and learning to adapt to it can still lay all our vulnerabilities bare.  

Change is a sensitive issue for us precisely because we have a love-hate relationship with it.  On one hand, we don’t want our lives to remain stagnant, and new adventures can make us eager for a fresh work of God.  Yet at the same time, we innately cling to what we know, preferring the security of our well-worn grooves to the possible options on the horizon.  And even if those alternatives are intriguing, they require us to leave behind a part of ourselves.  

There’s no more eloquent symbol for change than these days of sliding seasons.  The daylight is shifting, the earth is leaning, the sun is migrating across the sky.  Indeed, this is in many ways the astronomical fulcrum of the entire year.  So this moment as the sun hovers overhead is the perfect opportunity for us to pause and consider how we maneuver the dance of change in our own lives.  

The first step to handling change with grace is to acknowledge its value.  The act of change, while discomfiting at times, is innately natural and healthy; as Solomon reminded us, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 ESV).  If you don’t believe me, just look back at the last weeks of quarantine; months of identically empty days have profoundly convinced me of the value of change!  In all seriousness, though, without change, our spiritual growth would be stagnated.  

This understanding can be less than helpful, though, when we feel as if the foundations of our lives are being shaken.  And that’s when the second truth gives us comfort:  even in change, there are still constants to which we can cling.  If you don’t believe me, just look at the solstice.  The sun might be shifting position—but it still rises every morning.  The season might change—but the annual rhythm doesn’t stumble.  The days may begin to shorten—but they don’t grind to a halt.  In times of change, it’s soothing to identify and recognize our anchors:  the love of family, the support of friends, the beauty of the seasons, and of course, the love of the God Who is “the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8 ESV).

Lastly, celebrate the change!  Now, I’m certainly not recommending that we stifle our emotions and force a happy façade.  Acknowledging our feelings about a change—both positive and negative—is instead a key ingredient in truly celebrating.  Opposing emotional responses shouldn’t force us to choose a side.  In the Presence of God, we can be completely honest about it all.  After all, as Midsummer proves, it’s possible to hail the longest day and grieve a declining season—all in one night.

Midsummer.  It’s a strange and poignant time—a shining coin whose two sides are joy and pain.  Sounds a lot like our lives, doesn’t it?  So on June 20, step outside for a moment to admire the blaze of the Midsummer sun.  And then look beyond the shining rays—to the One Who holds us throughout our lives, in midsummer and midwinter and every hour in between. 

Did you enjoy this post? What solstice tradition do you find most intriguing, and what are some ways you’ve celebrated change in your own life? Let me know in the comments!

Also, BIG NEWS!!! In response to your recent feedback, I’ll be offering AUDIO VERSIONS of my future blog posts! This certainly doesn’t replace my written work, but now you can choose to either read my blog or listen to it–or both! Be on the lookout for this new feature, coming July 1!