Season – sea·son – /ˈsēzən/
“any period or time”

In case you missed last time, this is part 2 of a series. Last year was hard. Here, we’re digging into our experiences and what we learned along the way.

“I think I need to quit.”

She looked at me puzzled, “Did something happen?”

“No, I think I just need to quit.”

I love to worship.

I love leading others into worship.

When I was 16 I had a moment with the Lord. One of those life-altering, trajectory-setting moments. And it left me feeling like I was supposed to help with worship. I talked to my youth pastor about it thinking I’d sing backup or maybe play guitar. His response, “How about Sunday mornings?”

“What? I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I’ll give it a try.”

We put together a ragtag band of students including a cute girl with an angel voice on keys. 
(Hint: She’s my wife now. And a songwriter. You can listen to her tunes here or anywhere you stream music. Just search ”Ciera Agee.”)

Ok back to worship. Musically speaking, it was pretty rough. Just a bunch of kids who loved Jesus and brought an offering of music. But that’s how it’s supposed to be, right?

Since then, Ciera and I have been blessed to lead worship in some capacity for more than 15 years and even build up future generations of worship leaders. 

So, it was really hard when we knew it was time to take a step away. But our third kid was coming. It was what our family needed. So we gave plenty of notice, empowered new leaders, and transitioned out.

About 6 months after our son was born (last year), Ciera felt like it was time for her to join the team at church again. I said, “Cool, we should definitely join the team.”

Talked to the worship pastor. Got on the schedule. 

First week back. Made it through practice alright. Service started, and I just felt uncomfortable. 

“Ok, I’m a bit rusty,” I tell myself. “Just takes time to get used to it again.”

Next time wasn’t much different: “Nope, can’t explain it, I’m just uncomfortable.”

Third time it clicked. “I’m not supposed to be doing this.”

I didn’t know why, but I stopped by the worship pastor’s office and quit. 

Looking back, my family was about to need more from me than I’ve ever had to give before.

Over the course of the next several months, I had to painfully peel back layer after layer of extra things. We would walk through (another) major medical episode, major work transitions, rolling school closings, and of course a baby and two kids in the house.

Lesson 2: In seasons of stress, release and return to base need.

You’ve been living the high life. Enjoying the crisp cool air atop the mountain. Chasing the dreams and passions the Lord placed inside you. 

I worry that when we’re used to living on the mountain, we don’t know what to do when life and circumstance knock us down to the valley.

Instead of looking down at our feet, acknowledging our situation, and building up our base, we stand in the low place, hopping up and down hoping (in vain) to slap at our pursuits on the mountain top.

You get the visual?

Each day, we’d fall into bed by 9 p.m. Not because we were being super responsible, but because we simply ran out of energy. When you get there, it gets really easy to cut corners and slip into patterns that make you unhealthy. 

I had to work hard to keep my bases covered. To stay healthy. To be who God made me to be in every place I walked.

I have dreams and passions to pursue. Writing here for you is a big one. Worship is another. But when we started stepping into this season, it was time to bring my life back to base need. 

A biblical definition of base need sounds like (loving God with) “heart, soul, mind, and strength.” 

In psychology circles, you’ve probably heard it framed as emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and physical health. 
(Don’t you love it when worldly institutions stumble into Kingdom truths?)

If it didn’t land in one of those four categories, it was an extra. Above my current level of need. I couldn’t handle it. Or maybe I should put it this way: I shouldn’t handle it.

“Is that ok?” I’d ask myself. “Am I doing everything I should?” What about, “If you’re not growing, you’re dying” and all that stuff? 

But what if growth doesn’t always look the way we imagine—the way our world wants it to look?

There’s a Jewish agricultural mandate given by God called the Year of Sabbath or Shmita. 

Shmita literally means release.

The Israelites were about to enter the Promised Land—tending fields and vineyards they didn’t plant. Enjoying a higher level. But every seven years they were asked to rest the land. 

Don’t plant seeds. Don’t prune the vines. Only use what you need to take care of your household.

For. A. Whole. Year.

Ok, if dirt and plants need this…

My primary roles are husband, father, worker, and child of God. 

For the last year, no planting. No pruning. 

Trust me, I tried. Several times. And I knew almost instantly that I wasn’t meant to.

When you get knocked down to a place lower than you’ve been, if you sense a season Shmita is where you should be, start here:

First: Acknowledge it’s a season. 
(That means temporary.)

Then: Release.

I want so badly to say you’ll be out of it quickly. But it might take a year or more to rest your land. 

I beg you to pay attention. You risk the fertility of the next six years if you just plow through. 

Rest the land.

It’ll get messy, misshapen, and overgrown. That’s to be expected.

Read that one more time:

It’ll get messy, misshapen, and overgrown. That’s to be expected.

Take a breath.

Release.

Come back to base.

“For six years you shall sow your field, and for six years you shall prune your vineyard and gather in its fruits, but in the seventh year there shall be a Sabbath of solemn rest for the land, a Sabbath to the Lord. You shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard. You shall not reap what grows of itself in your harvest, or gather the grapes of your undressed vine. It shall be a year of solemn rest for the land. The Sabbath of the land shall provide food for you, for yourself and for your male and female slaves and for your hired worker and the sojourner who lives with you, and for your cattle and for the wild animals that are in your land: all its yield shall be for food.”

‭‭Leviticus‬ ‭25:3-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Interesting fact: We are currently in the Shmita year and it ends in September.