A Hopeful End to a Hard Year

Here we are at the end of 2019. The sun is setting on another year (thank you, Kelli, for the beautiful Florida sunset picture to illustrate this). Do you also get to the end of the year and wonder how that happened or is it just me? I have a sneaking feeling that most of us feel along those same lines – at least us adults. I think it’s because we look back and see it all at once.

Society sure forces us to look over our shoulders. Top 10 countdowns of everything. Media outlets are quick to look back and point out the ups and downs. And there are those Madison Avenue advertising executives pushing us to look ahead. New year, new you, as if something was wrong with you. However you feel about the close of one year and the start of a new one, it does often warrant a bit of reflection.

I guess that’s what I’ve been doing. Not really because I want to look back at a year full of heartache because I most definitely don’t. But if I didn’t take a peek back now, I might miss seeing some of the value that God brings from heartache. If I were to sum up this year it would be super easy to label it as hard. In fact, it was hard. But that is doing it a bit of a disservice by only paying attention to the surface.

Friends I might be a lot of things but shallow is not one of them. I refuse to not dig deeper and find some value in a year of loss. That fact is, God has shown me that while I did lose some, I’ve gained so much more. I would be remiss if I didn’t share that in the hopes that maybe it can help you.

This blog is something I gained that was born out of grief. It has been such a cathartic exercise for me. It has helped me process my thoughts and emotions. This happens to be my 41st post. Thank you for reading and sharing them and the many kind words that have been shared with me. I hope I’ve found a few words along the way that have encouraged you or perhaps made you look at something in a different light. I plan to continue writing them as long as God tells me to. I expect they’ll evolve as my heart heals.

I’ve gained deeper relationships with some important people in my life that have very likely been aided by my vulnerability in a dark time. I have come to realize just how valuable it is to have your close tribe. And not just to have these people but to allow yourself to share your ugly cries and full range of emotions with them. It absolutely matters, and it’s absolutely life saving. I feel like I’ll delve deeper into that topic some other day.

I’ve had spiritual growth at every turn it feels like. I’ve spent the last few months really seeking God and working to improve my direct relationship with Him. I can tell it. In case you’re having doubts – He is real and He hears you. I can promise you, if you truly seek Him, you’ll find Him. You may not enjoy everything you find right away, but goodness I’ve found Him to be as present and active in my life as anybody can be. Friends it’s hard to find adequate words for it, but when you experience God you know it.

Two words dominate my mind when I look back – gratitude and hope. They carry more weight for me than sadness and grief. I’ve spent the last few months of my Sunday School class teaching on Romans 5:3-5 which (and I’m paraphrasing here) tells us that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance produces character and character produces hope. I lived that out in 2019. I am eternally grateful for all the experiences that have led me to the point of hope.

Not just any hope, but as 1 Peter 1:3 calls it – a living hope. It’s not a wish or just a hope that something good will happen. It’s a living hope that the resurrection of Jesus provided. That God keeps His promises. If you look beyond the love in 1 Corinthians 13, you’ll see that hope also remains. In Hebrews 6:19 we’re told that this hope is an anchor for the soul. A living hope anchors my soul. Can I get an amen here? I feel like that needs one.

Friends, I can’t help it. It just overflows, and I have to tell you about it. As I leave 2019 behind I want to remember it as a year not of sadness and grief and hard things but as the year that God anchored me with hope. Let Him anchor you, too.