Hold Fast
I’m not even sure how to start this because everyone knows what 2020 was…right? But humor me. I just need to process a few things.
There was a lot of loss in 2020. There’s no denying that. But I can’t help but look back and see some really incredible gains, too. For starters, in my little corner of the world, I had friends and family who:
graduated
got married
had babies
sold businesses
ventured into uncharted waters
accomplished really great things
opened a donut shop (!!!)
And I:
relearned how to ride a bike
roasted a whole chicken for the first time
expanded my writing chops
walked through a tough but rewarding year at work alongside a resilient, inspiring team
worked on my Moira Rose impression (still in progress)
I’m not trying to make light of what was, for so many, a devastating year. And the fact is, all of the pain and grief isn’t going to disappear with a snap of a finger when the ball drops. And I know there are things in my own heart and mind that still need pruning or removing or building up. The hardest part of 2020 for me wasn’t circumstantial—it was internal. There were reckonings and awakenings, not only to the brokenness around me but the brokenness in myself. Sin in my heart that needs to be crushed, fears that need to be cast out. Somewhere along the way I started asking a lot of questions, and I’m not necessarily going into the new year with a lot of answers.
In fact, when I look at the horizon, I see nothing. It’s blank. There’s no “word” I want to focus on, no major goals I want to accomplish. I mean yes, I have general goals and dreams for my life. But there’s nothing that feels urgent or pressing or bound to 2021. And maybe that’s okay? Maybe that means God just wants me to keep walking forward in the light He gives me, with open hands and a ready heart, walking faithfully into that which He’s already called me.
I don’t really know where I’m going with this, other than I can’t help but think that we can hold grief in one hand and joy in the other. I’ve been so incredibly frustrated with humans this year, including myself. How can we be so inconsistent with our words and actions? How can we refuse to even try to understand those who are different from us? How can we live in such fear and ignorance? For those of us who are Christians, do we really believe what Jesus said? Do our lives mirror His truth, His compassion, His hope? (Again, I’m talking to myself here too.)
But there were also times this year it felt like I was witnessing the peak of humankind. Times when we regarded one another as more important than ourselves. When we went above and beyond to care for friends and strangers alike. When neighbors sung glorious melodies from their balconies to bless anyone who could hear. When men and women risked their lives to give others a fighting chance. And I can’t help but think, this is what we were born to do.
In short, 2020 has been beautiful and terrifying, and I’ve looked at the world with both complete awe and also total frustration. We’re a complex people, no?
Fun fact about me: Hebrews is my favorite book of the Bible, and I especially love to read it during the holidays. This passage, Hebrews 4:14-16, is one of my all-time favorites. But it hit a little closer to home this Christmas:
“Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
Do you see those words? Those zingers? All. All things. Without sin. Draw near with confidence. Hold fast. Mercy and grace to help in time of need.
Gosh, I hope this comforts you and gives you hope like it did for me. Friend, everything you faced this year, every moment you walked forward in doubt and fear, every loss that took you down, every time you kicked yourself for falling short (again)—listen. We serve a King, a High Priest, who 100% gets it. And yet, while on earth, Jesus resisted every temptation. You bear wounds from this year? Jesus bears wounds for you, because He loves you and has redeemed you. And if you belong to Him, the same power that rose Him from the dead lives in you and me (Rom. 8:11). And that means we can conquer our own demons and fight with all our might against the darkness inside and around us. Everything won’t be made completely right until Jesus comes back, but I think in the mean time we can throw off our chains, be ambassadors of reconciliation, be agents of good.
His mercies are new every morning. Joy will come with the dawn. Hope is ours for the taking.
