The Last Day of an Old Season

There’s a particular kind of restlessness that settles into your bones when a season is ending. It’s not quite dissatisfaction, though it can feel like it. It’s not depression, though it carries a weight. It’s the soul’s way of telling you that what once fit no longer does, that the room you’ve been living in has become too small, that the script you’ve been reading from no longer matches the story God is writing.

You might not recognize it at first. The restlessness comes quietly, like the first cool breeze of autumn when summer still feels like it will last forever. But somewhere deep inside, you know. Something is shifting. Something is ending. And though you can’t yet see what’s coming, you sense that standing still is no longer an option.

This is the last day of an old season, not a literal day marked on a calendar, but a threshold moment that stretches across time until you finally recognize it for what it is. It’s the space between what was and what will be, and learning to identify it is one of the most critical skills in your spiritual journey.

This is often how the end of a season announces itself, through a holy dissatisfaction with what once satisfied you. The role that once energized you now drains you. The routines that once brought comfort now feel confining. The relationships that once felt life-giving now feel stagnant. And underneath it all runs a current of something you can’t quite name, a sense that you’re meant for something more, something different, something that doesn’t yet have shape or form.

The danger in this moment is misdiagnosing what’s happening. We can interpret the restlessness as ingratitude, the dissatisfaction as carnality, the longing as ambition. We can beat ourselves up for not being content, for not being more thankful for what we have. We can try to manufacture enthusiasm for what God is actually releasing us from.

But there’s a difference between godly contentment and settling for less than what God intends. There’s a difference between patience and passivity. There’s a difference between being grateful for where you’ve been and recognizing when it’s time to move forward.

The Discomfort of Outgrowing

Plants don’t stay in the same pot forever. When roots begin to press against the walls, when growth becomes stunted, when water runs straight through because there’s no more room to expand, that’s when a gardener knows it’s time to transplant. The plant isn’t dying. It’s outgrowing its container.

The same is true for us. We outgrow jobs. We outgrow relationships that were meant for a season. We outgrow ways of thinking, patterns of behavior, and versions of ourselves that served us well but are no longer sufficient for where God is taking us.

So if you’re feeling the restlessness, the discomfort, the sense that something is shifting, pay attention. Don’t dismiss it. Don’t medicate it with distractions. Don’t spiritualize it away with false contentment. Instead, lean into it. Ask God what He’s saying. Look for the signs. Acknowledge that your current reality might be ending to make room for something new.

This is the last day of an old season. And while that brings uncertainty, it also brings possibility. Because on the other side of this threshold is the reason you went through everything in the season that’s ending. On the other side is the new you, the you that your old season was preparing you to become.

The question isn’t whether the season is ending. If you’re feeling what you’re feeling, it probably is. The question is whether you’ll have the courage to recognize it, to honor what was, and to step toward what’s coming.

Your threshold is waiting.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

BraveBeyondBreaking.com