There’s a question that pesters me at the start of every calendar year.
What is it about a new number on the calendar that drives what seems like all of humanity into avid reflection on the last 365 and fervent declaration of new things to come? Why can’t we make our resolves on any old Monday?
I guess it’s cultural at this point. Most of you would probably resign at the idea that it’s just what we do.
I’m not saying it’s wrong or that I’m any exception to the rule. I just wonder why.
If the Bible says God’s mercies are new every morning, why do we act like they’re only presented in their shiny packaging on the first of January?
Being away from home this holiday season brought on a new kind of reflection for me. I didn’t see Christmas trees, I didn’t go to the annual boat parades, I didn’t witness frantic shoppers rushing to their next gift purchase.
I didn’t even get to call my family on Christmas. I had no choice but to be completely removed from this time of year as I’ve always known it. And you know, it made me reconsider this season. Do I need all of that to celebrate the birth of Jesus? Does it add to the weight of God’s tenderness in sending His one son down on Love’s greatest mission trip?
I’ve decided it doesn’t. The fluff pleases my flesh, but the Lord is sufficient to make it just as good, if not better.
As New Years came close, I could barely remember that people back home were shopping for sparkly dresses and planning their festivities. We arrived in Ghana on the second to last day of 2017 and my mind was occupied with acclimating to my sixth country on this voyage more than it was pondering resolutions for the new year.
The day before we traveled here, my teammate Courtney shared that each year she asks the Lord for a word. This word is prophetic, symbolic, and visionary for what this next trip around the sun will be. She asked each of us to pray for a word of our own to reveal in the new year.
My questions about why we put so much emphasis on a new year beckoned me to go against the grain of any and all New Years rituals. I didn’t plan to set any resolutions. I didn’t spend an extended amount of time reflecting on what I’d just walked through. I just wanted to be; to exist and live my life as I do any other week of the year.
You see, life with Jesus has taught me I don’t need a new year to symbolize change. I really do receive new mercies every morning. I know what abundant life looks like. I don’t need to put my hope in fresh starts because it’s already placed in something, or Someone, much bigger than empty vows to be a better person or to eat a gluten free diet.
My faith gets weak and I’m full of doubt, but my hope, however small, remains in His steady nature.
So I prayed. I sat down with a million random thoughts circling my brain and I asked God to reveal his vision for 2018.
The first word that came was steady.
I heard God say how even though I’ll spend at least half of the year journeying from one unknown to another, this year will be steady.
He didn’t mean it in the tangible, seeable sense. I mean, I’m living out of a backpack after all.
God said steady because He promises to be the Rock, to Shepherd my always-wandering sheep self, and to love me without conditions. Even the most intricate ideals of what this year could hold can’t promise all of that.
Steady. When Jesus tells us to drop our nets and follow him, it’s a command to step into the unpredictable. He asks us to leave the things that the world says are our very livelihood to go where he goes and do what he does. It’s an oxymoron, really, to say yes to the uncertain and expect stability.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s how Jesus doesn’t make sense. Similar to the why behind our clinging to hope for the new year, it’s just the way it is. He makes the rules, and if he offers me consistency in my spirit and none in my physical situation, so be it.
Steady it is. Not in the natural sense, which is only appropriate for a supernatural God. I know deep in my gut that this word was given by Divine Inspiration (thank ya, Holy Spirit).
I haven’t been let down by Him yet, so what can I do but put my unstable, broken trust into His unshakable, unmistakable promises? He promises me steadiness through His steadfast love and I have my empty hands held out in waiting.
So here goes nothing. A new year of probably sleeping on more floors, definitely moving from one place to the next, and absolutely pretending to know what the heck is going on more often than not. A new year of steady promises flowing in and peace washing over me.
Thank God for teammates who ask us for simple things that turn into big heart shifts from the Lord. Here’s to you, 2018.
