The tell-tale signs of summer’s turn are hard to miss. Between the unfurling of green across the spring-sprung landscape and the slow, welcome retreat of darkness from the early evening hours, nature’s like-clockwork transition heralds a surprising array of new beginnings. Yet, this season of shifts is equally, if less visibly, built upon hard, intentional labor: the tilling of soil, the necessary pruning of overgrowth, and, pointedly, the turning of the compost heap.

We might imagine a gardener, with practical wisdom, sorting through what appear to be decaying remnants—withered leaves, faded blooms, spent coffee grounds, and eggshells. To the ordinary eye, it’s just…garbage. But to the gardener, it’s future richness, essential nourishment for the vibrant life he intends to cultivate.

His process mirrors the transitions many of us face.

In the summer months, people find themselves confronting change. For graduating seniors, this is a monumental step from familiar halls into wider, uncharted paths. For others, it might be a new job, a move, or a shift in family dynamics—each bringing its own blend of choices and opportunities.

Yet, even the most thrilling new chapter involves a letting go that must precede the taking hold. It is in these moments that new questions are raised, and feelings of uncertainty often surface. The common, and entirely true, counsel is to turn to the Scriptures and keep Christ central through it all. Indeed, we cannot say it too often.

But I wonder if there isn’t a parallel, organic process at play as well, one that pairs unobtrusively with the foundational precept. What if every season, particularly the one we must now release, has provided the very “spiritual compost” necessary for the next to flourish, empowering us for whatever lies ahead?

The idea is this: God, in His infinite wisdom and sovereignty, meticulously uses every experience in the life of His child. The triumphs that built confidence, the joys that shaped gratitude, the trials that forged resilience, the lessons learned, and even the stumbles from which we’ve been mercifully raised—all contain valuable nutrients. Like a master gardener, He intends for these experiences to be broken down and integrated, enriching the soil of our souls for the specific fruit He plans to cultivate in the season ahead—a season He already sees with perfect clarity.

The Divine Economy

Consider Joseph. His early years were a cascade of bitter injustices and profound uncertainties: betrayal by his brothers, enslavement in a foreign land, false accusation, and forgotten imprisonment (Genesis 37, 39-40). Could he have known God’s grand design while languishing in a dungeon?

From a human vantage point, these were wasted years, a pit of despair and decay. Yet, from the divine perspective, each painful element became, in God’s economy, spiritual compost.

When the appointed time came, Joseph told his brothers: “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (Genesis 50:20). The “decay” of his former life nourished the wisdom, forgiveness, and skill that preserved a nation and his own family. The pit, the prison, the pain—all were tilled into the soil of his future leadership.

Tending the Soil

So then, how do we practice “spiritual composting” in our own lives, ensuring we are truly prepared for what God has next?

1. Reflection: Harvesting the Season’s Yield

Just as a gardener carefully examines what the past season has produced, we must prayerfully survey what God has cultivated in our lives, a practical inventory of divine provision. Moses commanded Israel to “remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you power” (Deuteronomy 8:18).

In practice, this means identifying specific moments where God’s hand guided us through uncertainty, celebrating the joys that built our capacity for gratitude, and acknowledging the trials through which He developed our perseverance (James 1:2-3). Even perceived failures contain seeds of future wisdom when viewed through the lens of grace.

2. Decomposition: Virtue in Surrender

The composting process requires breaking down what was to create what will be. Spiritually, this mirrors the necessary surrender of our past—not forgetting it, but allowing God to transform its meaning and purpose in our lives.

This decomposition involves the courage to release what we once thought essential: our timeline, our certainty, our self-reliance. It means processing disappointments not as final verdicts but as fertile ground for new growth (John 12:24). Paul embodied this when he wrote, “Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Philippians 3:8). His former identity, achievements, and expectations—composted into the soil of a new calling.

3. Reintegration: Cultivating New Growth

The final stage of spiritual composting is active participation in what God is growing next. This involves intentionally applying wisdom from previous seasons to fresh opportunities—and becoming a source of nourishment for others.

Like a skilled gardener who knows when to water, when to prune, and when to wait, we learn to discern God’s timing through accumulated wisdom. The late nights studying built discipline for our careers. The painful relationship developed empathy for counseling friends. Past financial stress created resourcefulness for current decisions.

This transforms us from beneficiaries to stewards. Paul reminds us, “God comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4). Our composted experiences become sustenance for others.

This threefold practice can help us approach life’s seasons with informed trust, knowing that even imperfect decisions become raw material for God’s ongoing work in our lives.

To New Beginnings

No matter where we are or where we are heading, the seasons behind us were purposeful. Our God is the Master Gardener, taking every fragment from the mosaic of our lived experiences and turning it into rich potential for the season now unfolding.

Christ, who Himself entered the earth and brought forth the ultimate harvest of resurrection life, is central to this entire process. He ensures that nothing is truly wasted, that “all things indeed work together for the good of those who love Him” (Romans 8:28). He is our wisdom, our guide, the source of our strength and hope, whether the path ahead seems brilliantly lit or requires step-by-step faith.

So, as we stand on the edge of tomorrow, whether our hearts are buoyed by excitement or steadied by prayerful resolve, do not only look forward; look back also.

The soil is ready. The Master Gardener is at work. The next season awaits.