Kimberly Knowle-Zeller
A Theology of Summer
Every morning, I take a cup of hot coffee, books, and my journal to the front porch. My eyes rest on multicolored flowers and the dance of the hummingbirds. The birds sing greeting the morning and I give thanks that in the newness of the rising sun, God’s mercies cover me once again.
Walking the kids to summer school I watch their bodies holding backpacks and questions of what they’ll do and who they’ll see. We pray for friends who need comfort. We give thanks for teachers who love and infuse creativity in the day. We all walk in faith trusting that wherever our days take us, we’re not alone.
The garden needs daily water, but before I grab the hose I assess what happened over night. Some mornings I find plants eaten, and other days I see a new flower. The garden teaches me to trust the unseen work that happens beneath the surface. Gardening is an act of hope, the living out of death and resurrection.
Afternoons at the pool, the kids delight in jumping and splashing. We meet friends and make new ones. We look out for one another. With every drop of water I remember God’s promises at baptism: You have been sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.
Morning, afternoon, and night texts ping on my phone. How are you? This is hard. Want to meet at the park? Has this happened to you before? The kids are melting down…again. We’re praying for you. In the words of our friends, I feel God’s presence and the gift of community, a treasure that we’re not alone in raising our children.
These are just a few of the glimpses of our summer, a few ways I’m experiencing God’s goodness throughout my days — a theology of summer if you will.
A theology of summer invites us to see the growth around us. It sings of the goodness found in community and vulnerability. It’s trusting that God is always in the business of bringing forth the unseen to fruition. It’s a theology that says:
Come, dance in the light.
Come, look at the colors of the pansies.
Come, drench yourselves in water.
Come, sip glasses of lemonade.
Come, feel the sand beneath your toes.
Come, take and eat.
Come, marvel at each miraculous leaf.
This summer, delight in God’s delight of all creation, especially YOU. See where God is calling you to grow and strengthen your roots. Rest in your name above all names: Beloved Child of God.