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Summer is ending. 

Today we flipped the calendar—the brightness of August fading into the more mellow September.  There aren’t too many visible indicators of this new season yet.  The flowers are still blooming, the grass is still lush and verdant, and the days are still unhurried.  However, I know the end of summer is at hand, because of a poignant experience I had a couple of weeks ago.  

I was running by Spring Lake, a beautiful area that lies along my daily exercise route, and I noticed that something was missing.  Somehow, things were not as they had been all summer.  I paused for a moment and scanned the grounds.  At first, everything looked normal—the trees still scattered shadow, the winds still ruffled the waters.  But finally I realized where the difference lay—the sky.  

All summer long, the sky above Spring Lake has been filled with a cheerful, chattering flock of purple martins.  These birds, members of the swallow family, arrive in early spring and take up residence in the martin houses Spring Lake has provided for them.  During the warm months, they enjoy an ideal environment—the security of nest boxes to raise their young, the privacy of the secluded area, and the throngs of insects that congregate above the waters of the lake.  Each time I’ve passed, I’ve seen them swirling through the sky on their iridescent purple wings, as if chasing the clouds.  

But on this day, the skies were empty.  No whirl of royal wings, no chorus of whistling calls, no peep from the nest boxes or familiar silhouette in the treetops.  The dragonflies hovered undisturbed over the grass, and the martin houses stood like lonely sentinels, silent and abandoned.    

I knew why my martin friends had disappeared.  It’s time for the shift of the seasonal cadence—their southward migration.  I stood by the quiet martin houses, under the empty sky, and I pictured the lovely birds flitting south, racing ahead of the winter to come.  And I felt it in my soul—an undefinable shift—the end of summer.   

I always wonder how the martins decide to leave.  Of course, I realize that much of the seasonal rhythm to their lives is based on the length of day and night.  However, when they begin their migration—one of the earliest of Arkansas species—autumn has not yet arrived.  In fact, by all appearances, summer continues to reign.  

Yet on a still-hot, still-sunshiny afternoon, the martins spread their pointy wings and rise in the gregarious flocks for which they’re known.  They leave behind the green fields and calm waters of Spring Lake, and they fly swift and sure to the south—crossing the beaches of the American coast, skimming the Gulf of Mexico or following the spine of Central America.  In about a month, they’ll arrive at their tropical destination—the uncharted rainforests along Brazil’s Amazon basin.  Hidden in this vibrant ecosystem, they’ll remain safely through the winter, until spring returns and Arkansas calls again.   (For more information on their migration, check out this website.)

Imagine what an observer who knew nothing about the changing of seasons would think as he saw the martins leave.  Their conduct would seem bizarre to him.  Why would these birds simply pull up stakes and head to South America, especially when it seems as if summer will go on forever?  In the eyes of this imaginary observer, the birds’ preparation for winter would seem totally absurd.  

But in reality, the journey of the martins is far from unnecessary or ill-judged.  Instead, it’s a wise decision, a defense mechanism that protects these birds from a brutal winter.  You see, the signs of the coming autumn may not have manifested yet, but the birds don’t require external indicators to bolster their internal faith. Because they know that autumn is on the way, they act accordingly even in the absence of obvious signs, trading Arkansas’s mountains and forests for tropical jungles.  

My friends, there’s a lesson for us here.  It may seem sometimes that this earth’s current season will last forever.  All around us, we hear the world echoing the mocking question of 2 Peter 3:4:  “Where is the promise of his [Christ’s] coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all things are continuing as they were from the beginning of creation” (ESV).

But we as believers are aware that regardless of how circumstances appear to us, the change is coming.  Christ will return to claim His church and put an end to Satan and his current regime.  

Granted, the outward indicators of this coming victory may be hard to see.  “For as were the days of Noah, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.  For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day when Noah entered the ark, and they were unaware until the flood came and swept them all away, so will be the coming of the Son of Man” (Matthew 24:37-39 ESV).  The world is characteristically deaf and blind to impending works of God.  

However, we as the church are aware of what is to come.  And like the martins, we plan ahead.  How?  By living in light of the coming change even when it’s not yet apparent.  Just as the martins prepare for the future season, we’re called to prepare for Christ’s return—not by flying south to the tropics, but by living lives of purity, productivity, and hope.

First of all, God invites us to live in a way that honors Him while we wait for His coming.  Do you ever wonder why we’re not just beamed to Heaven upon salvation?  Why do we have to wait on earth at all?  God leaves us on this planet for many reasons, but an important one is to declare His glory through our righteous lives.  This means that we do not conform to the temptations and patterns of the world around us, but we shine as lights in the darkness, modeling His holiness and purity.  

Secondly, we’re called to live productively.  Our time on earth isn’t something to be taken for granted or carelessly thrown away or squandered for our own enjoyment.  It’s a precious resource from God to be wisely stewarded.  This doesn’t require us to race around frantically with groaning schedules and burgeoning to-do lists, but we are “making the best use of the time, because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:16 ESV).  When we live this way—from the perspective of Christ’s soon return—we prioritize our service to Him, and we maximize each opportunity we have to share the news of His glory with those around us.  

Finally, we live in hope!  In a world that grows darker by the day, it’s tempting to succumb to despair or surrender to defeat.  The headlines this year have been particularly painful—sickness, economic crises, racial tensions, divisiveness and anger and grief.  Yet against this dark backdrop, the hope of our calling shines like a beacon of joy.  The enemy’s apparent victories are not forever.  Christ is returning to claim His church and set all to rights.  

As I consider this, I’m reminded of a parable Jesus told about twelve bridesmaids at a wedding party.  Some of the young women did not prepare for the coming of the groom, and as a result, they missed joining him at the feast.  However, the wise bridesmaids were ready and waiting and accompanied the groom to a celebration.  (You can read the entire parable in Matthew 25).  That’s the essence of our calling—to live in expectancy, waiting confidently for His return to unfold and His glory to be revealed.  

September 1.  In this poignant season of changing days and blurring seasons, let’s be aware of what the future will bring to our world.  A shift is on the way.  Others may scoff, but we know it to be true.  And just like the martins, we can choose to prepare now for the season we don’t see yet—living in purity, productivity, and peace.  He is coming, and because we know that, we can rejoice!   

Did you enjoy this post? What are some ways you prepare for the coming of Christ? Let me know in the comments! Also, for more information about purple martins, including some beautiful images, click here!