From the beginning, as the Fiddler fiddled from his rooftop on the stage I was enchanted–carried away to the Tsarist Russia of 1905 where Tevye attempted to cope with the challenges to his faith and the influences of the world on his five daughters. All too soon, Act I neared its conclusion and haunting lyrics filled the theatre and stabbed at hearts…
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laiden with happiness and tears
I must wonder if the lyricist knew how closely his words echo the scriptures, proclaiming the truth that there is a time for every season…
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.
He comes out like a flower and withers;
he flees like a shadow and continues not.
Many seasons have passed in my life since I first sat enthralled by the saga of the Fiddler on the Roof and yes; they have all flown so swiftly by. I look at our wedding pictures, amazed that we were ever so young. I consider my baby who now has babies of his own. My husband’s hair is white, and mirrors show stark evidence of my age. May dad has already been gone for five years, yet it seems like yesterday that he was telling me I could be anything I wanted when I grew up. My fiercely independent mother is independent no longer. So many sunrises, so many sunsets; and it would be easy to sink into the melancholy mood of the song. But while I may occasionally visit those days gone by with a nostalgic sense of sadness, I don’t stay long because I have hope, and His name is Jesus.
A voice says, “Cry!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass.
The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Jesus is the Word and He stands forever, so instead of lamenting the brevity of life I proclaim the truth of the word of God…
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
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