There’s an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:

A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, The Message

It’s a passage that often turns up at funerals, especially when the deceased person has lived a long, full life. It’s natural, sometimes even easy, to see a time coming complete when the end is final and beyond our control.

Other seasons shift in straightforward, expected ways: the beginning of September signals that it will soon be time to put away sandals and unbox sweaters. Summer ends, and the first day of school comes. Other seasons are less routine: retirement. Getting a driver’s license. Having a baby. Getting divorced. Earning your Eagle Scout rank. Something ends, and something begins, though not always as expected.

Often, these transitions from one season to another are marked by some kind of ritual. Parents make their kids pose for a first day of school photo in the same place every August. Excited grandparents-to-be throw a baby shower. A Scoutmaster presides at an Eagle Court of Honor. When a close friend gets divorced, I give them a little cake to mark the many emotions at the end of marriage.

But other transitions have no ritual– especially the transitions that come at the end of something. Baby doesn’t nurse anymore. Your favorite restaurant closed. Mom doesn’t host Thanksgiving at her house anymore. You don’t have the energy to do all the things you once did. Your kid quit soccer and now you don’t socialize with the other team parents during games. That TV show you’ve been watching airs its finale.

Ecclesiastes assures us that it’s right for times to change. It’s appropriate for one thing to begin and another to end. It’s good to be part of something for a while but not forever. For those who have often been the steadfast, unmoving types, those whose times seem to cycle rapidly might appear flighty. For those who easily shift from one time to another, the measured pace of the slow-to-change might seem leaden. No matter where we fall along that spectrum, sometimes the times will change. From crying to laughing to crying again. Planting to reaping to planting once more. Birth and death and birth and…

But it’s those little changing times I’m most interested in right now. When you step on or off a committee. When you volunteer for something new or take a break from something old. When you try something you’ve never done before just because it might be time.

This Sunday, we’re having a Ministry Fair at RLC. We are showcasing dozens of ministries and programs. We’re kicking off Sunday School. We’re packing school supply kits and tying a quilt, both destined for communities around the world. We are all getting the opportunity to start something new (Want to be an usher? Count offerings? Water a Garden?) AND the opportunity to end something else (if you are tired of something you’ve been working on for years, it’s okay to rest from it). It’s a time to say yes and a time to say no. A time to hold on and a time to let go.

Whatever season you’re in, whatever time is right for you: I hope you’ll come and see all the ministry going on right now, in this right time to be part of RLC.