This eternal fountain is hidden deep, Well l know where it has its spring, Though it is night! (St. John of the Cross)

My friend Nancy Beach once taught a series on spiritual life in which she compared our varying experiences of God's presence to the seasons of the year. She gave eloquent descriptions of the beauty and wonder of spring, summer, and fall. When it came to the topic of the soul in winter, however, she asked me to take her place. So I thought I would start this chapter with words I associate with winter.

Death. Ice. Hypothermia. Windchill.

Snow. Shoveling snow. Shoveling more snow. Buying a snowblower.

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Salt trucks. Black ice. Dead batteries. Frostbite. Gangrene. Thermal underwear. My wife wearing long thermal underwear for months at a time.

Ice fishing. Diminished mental capacity.

Seasonal affective disorder. Happy days for electrical utility companies.

Recreational eating. Death.

I don't like winter.

I know there are people in the world who claim to love winter. But it always makes me wonder: How many people spend their working careers in Florida, then retire and move to Minot, North Dakota?

I have heard people say, "But God made winter — it must be good."

There is no mention of winter in the Bible before the Fall. In Genesis we read about trees bursting with fruit and rivers flowing with water and people who didn't even need clothes. Wherever the Garden of Eden was, it clearly was not Milwaukee in January.

The Bible tells us that winter came because someone once did something very, very bad. People have been paying for it ever since. I speak from experience. I lived for a decade in Chicago, which was founded when a group of people from NewYork said, "The crime and the poverty are good, but we'd like it colder."

A Wintry Spirituality

Regardless of what you may feel about the meteorological season, I want us to think about a kind of winter of the soul. Spiritual winter.

You may be able to relocate to some part of the world where you can avoid cold weather, but there is no place you can move to escape spiritual winter. Theologian Martin E. Marty wrote a book of reflections about the terminal illness and loss of his beloved wife. He said one of the resources human beings need is what he calls "a wintry spirituality" for times when the warmth and joy is taken away from us and a sunny disposition is not enough to bring them back. We need a way of holding on to God when it feels as if God has let go of us.

Winter may come when someone has lost a job or experienced vocational failure. They feel a deep sense of sadness, even shame. They are not sure, without this job, who they are anymore.

Winter may arrive the day the word comes back from the doctor's lab that the test was positive. All the dreams you took for granted — that you will watch your kids grow up and get married, that you will grow old with your spouse and die when you're good and ready — suddenly torture you with the thought that you won't be there to see them fulfilled.