Autumn Thoughts: Gathering and Sharing

Autumn has arrived. Thank God for cool morning and evening breezes! For those of us who live in Southern California, we are so ready to say 'good-bye' to this summer. The relentless heatwaves, along with unusually high humidity, have been insufferable, so much so that ACs were breaking down left and right! So, welcome back, fall! We missed you!

Now, when we think of “autumn,” words and images associated with gathering and harvesting automatically come to mind. You know, farmers beaming with smiles as they fill the silos and storehouses. Their joy and satisfaction make months of back-breaking labor, sweat, toil, and pain worthwhile. 

Having said that, if we ponder the deeper order of nature, we realize that autumn is not just for gathering and storing. Autumn is, in fact, a significant season of emptying, shedding, and letting go. That seems paradoxical, I know. 

But consider the laws of nature. Facing the harshness of the coming winter, a tree sheds the brilliant blossoms and lush leaves it had so proudly displayed in the summer months. Why is that? Because keeping those leaves would cause the branches to snap under the weight of frost and heavy snowstorms in fall and winter. Left unchecked, the sheer weight of ice and snow could even topple the tree altogether.

By emptying itself, that is, by casting its foliage to the ground, the tree not only preserves its own life but also generously nourishes the soil—becoming the nutrient that enriches the ground for the next spring. In the same way, human beings must balance accumulation with emptying, sharing what they possess with others. Only then can we taste even greater richness down the road, and doing so is prudent AND practical.

The Old Testament Book of Leviticus offers a wonderfully rich and fascinating teaching on this paradox of gathering and sharing.

God commanded the people of Israel that, when they reaped the harvest of the land, they were not to reap to the very corners of their fields, nor gather the gleanings that fell on the plot. This command was given specifically to bless and provide for the poor and the foreigner. Intentionally leaving behind the fallen ears of grain and leaving the corners of the field untouched was an act of divine mercy toward the marginalized and needy, and human beings became the hands and feet of God to extend His providence. What a beautiful and noble system!

Viewed strictly through the lens of modern economics—which prioritizes efficiency and productivity above all else—leaving the four corners of a field untouched might seem downright foolish. Yet the essence of faith, human duty, true wisdom, and genuine neighborly love teaches us not to stop at merely accumulating and piling up things in our barns. At the very peak of abundance, leaving the corners untouched for others was an expression of grace, humility, and kindness.

Let us take this a step further. We often assume we can share with others only after we ourselves are fully satisfied and filled. But the truth taught by life and history challenges us to do more. If passing along what is left over is a virtue and a courtesy, setting aside a precious portion from one’s own harvest to meet another’s need is a remarkable act of sacrificial worship. God Himself set the ultimate example of this by not sparing His only begotten Son, sending Him into the world to die for sinners. In the same way, parents pour out everything for their children. Teachers, mentors, and pastors invest their lives in the next generation. All because sacrifice is the very definition of love.

Human beings tend to clutch money and possessions tightly, claiming, “This is mine! Nobody can touch it!” But when we open those clenched fists and let go of what we hold, our empty hands joined together can form a vessel ready to receive new blessings. A container that is never emptied leaves no room for greater and fresher blessings.

Therefore, for autumn to reach its true fulfillment as a genuine season of blessing, it must not end with filling our barns. It must flow outward in love—shared with neighbors, especially those who are struggling and in need.

In this season, let us first reflect on what we are harvesting in our own lives. Then, let us ask ourselves: Are we so consumed by our own harvest and gain that we pass right by the needs of others? Are we scraping every last corner of our fields bare in the pursuit of personal success? Are we brushing aside the pain and needs of someone else? Careful. Answers may sting a little. 

True abundance is proven not by the quantity or value of what we harvest and hold, but by the breadth of the space we are willing to clear out. Unclenching our fists to share love and material resources with the world is genuine love—and true worship.

In John 4, Jesus declared that doing the work of the Father was His food. This autumn, may we also be filled with that same food, the true Manna. Let us listen closely to autumn’s paradoxical message to share, serve, and give.