The Rest That Winter Brings

We all need rest. Winter’s yearly occurrence is the reminder of this that we all need

Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

The leaves have all but fallen off the trees and the butterflies and bees no longer fill the air. The flowers of mid-summer have rotted away, and a dull monotone grey dominates the sky. Winter, (or is it death?) is approaching. The temperatures drop, the vibrancy of summer and autumn fades, and the nights get longer and longer. Darkness descends and rules over the day.

Darkness, decay, and death. For those attuned to the natural world, these are some of the words winter evokes. It is a month of hardship: from the struggles of keeping warm in biting winds, to the carnage and chaos a heavy snowfall can bring, winter brings challenges that make the heatwaves of summer seem tame. For those most exposed to the elements, the challenge of winter is one of life and death. Making it safely through to spring requires skill, endurance, and careful preparation. But sadly, many of the elderly, weak, and those caught ill-prepared, (both human and beast) will perish in this the most unforgiving of seasons.

However, there is a different way of looking at winter — a much more optimistic view. For although winter does indeed bring death for some, and darkness for all, this very same darkness like sleep, can bring us rest¹ — the rest that field, beast and man all require after the frantic activity of summer. Although many of us may wish winter was over as soon as it has begun, we need winter and its yearly presence is not futile.

For the summer has indeed been a frantic time. Our fields have worked hard over the spring and summer to yield richly for us in the harvest-time. Their soils have provided the nutrition that fed our crops and cattle, and their surfaces now bear the scars of machine, plough, and beast. Winter allows the fields a few months of rest, healing, and replenishment before the next burst of growth come springtime. Likewise, the farmer. Harvest time is the busiest and most stressful time of the year; by the sweat of his brow are the crops now in the barn and the cattle in their pens. His body is aching from the labour he has given to bring forth life and nutrition from these fields, and his energy is spent. As one farmer’s wife wryly commented to Adrian Bell: “We never really enjoy the summer here — there's not the time.”² Winter allows time for the farmer to slow down, to fix what is broken, and to take stock. He must remember that he is a limited being, in need of rest and recuperation just as much as his fields and flocks, so that come the spring, he can again pour forth his life and energy into these fields to bring forth from them our daily bread.

The birds in the hedgerows and trees of the farm are also in need of a rest. Summer has been spent in the labour-intensive activity of raising the next generation. For some species, spring and summer have consisted of day after day of relentless feeding of many hungry and demanding mouths. Come the autumn and winter, many of these species have flown south to bask in the hot tropical sun with abundant food. Those that are left take life at a slower pace — but not as slow as hedgehogs and bats who take the ultimate rest of all — hibernation.

The fields, farmers, and creatures. They all remind us that although summer was a time of joy, and plenty, it was also a time of strenuous activity, hard work, and long hours. This was particularly so for our forefathers whose lives were tied much closer to the land and its rhythms than we are. For them, winter, with its freezing conditions and short daylight hours, would have been a time of “forced” rest from their usual labours, a time to hunker down and to conserve their energy. Perhaps it also gave them the time and headspace necessary to think, plan, and dream. It is no coincidence that New Year, the traditional time for reforming outlooks and determining new plans, falls within the heart of winter.

In a likewise manner, winter should be a time of rest for the modern man too — but rarely is this so. We live in a society that never seems to slow down. Now that our jobs are not so much tied to the cycles, rhythms, and limitations of the land, the temptation for us to be constantly on the go is strong. There is always more to be done, meetings to be held, products to be made, and profits to be earned. Rest is ignored and spurned as inefficient and unnecessary for the modern man. But the warning lights of impending burnout and anxiety remind us this is both foolish and negligent. As the Scripture says: “It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep”.³

We do all need rest and the occurrence of winter can be the yearly reminder that we all need. We should then welcome this season of intermission, alongside embracing our natural limitations and the rest that they necessitate. Even though winter remains a season we must at times endure (and at all times respect), we are adept at making it more bearable and conducive to restfulness. From stories of the harvest time told around the fire, to cozy nights under blankets, both we and our forefathers have found ways to rest and recuperate during the cold and long winter nights — and even to enjoy them. Likewise, although the snow can be deadly, it can also be breathtakingly beautiful providing us with scenes that rival the summer blooms in their aesthetic pleasure.

And perhaps our need for rest, enjoyment, and merriment is why our most festive and joy-filled times of the year occur around the dead of winter. It is fitting that at this point in time — when darkness seems to hold its greatest dominion over the light of the day — that we celebrate the Light of the World coming down to earth. His incarnation reminds us that even in what seems like the dead of darkness, “the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it”. Springtime will return, the life-giving rays of the sun will bring forth new growth, and we will rise, rested from the winter months to the new work that He has been prepared for us to do.

1. I first noticed the connection between winter and rest from reading part of Hannah Anderson’s excellent book Turning of Days.

2. Adrian Bell, The Flower and the Wheel. Page 59.

3. Psalm 127:2