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| Photo by @sazzleb on Unsplash |
My mind immediately flooded itself with all the painful and hard times I had walked through in the last twelve months. Sadness pressed in at the corners of my heart.
Nothing had gone at all like I had planned or thought this year would go.
I remembered feeling this same sadness at the end of 2017, and being glad when it was over too and thinking that, because I made it...I survived, that the next year, 2018, would be better and easier.
And, yet, it wasn’t easier or better.
The sadness invaded and pushed a little deeper and I remembered another tough year in 2015, which had brought challenges and changes and struggles, and how glad I was to ring in 2016 and leave 2015 behind.
Suddenly, I realized I have basically spent the end of every year for at least the last 4 years mourning what I considered as lost instead of celebrating what was gained.
My word of the year from God for 2018 floated in big letters across my mind…
C H O O S E.
I sat up in bed.
I felt a shift occurring inside me… the Holy Spirit inviting me into action.
I choose.
I can choose to commiserate, or I can choose to celebrate.
I choose.
I can choose to commiserate the hard things, or I can choose to celebrate how God used the hard things to soften me.
I choose.
I can choose to commiserate prayers not answered my way, or I can celebrate how I heard God speaking to my heart more clearly in this season than I ever have before.
I choose.
I can choose to commiserate what I felt forced to change about myself, or I can celebrate that those yucky not-so-God-like parts of me were sloughed out.
I choose.
I can choose to commiserate the exhaustion and numerous tears, or I can celebrate the new strength I found and the faith that grew.
I choose.
I physically felt joy come into my spirit and my heart and push all the invading sadness of the pondering thoughts away!
I thought about how the enemy wants to steal so many things from me, from us. And I’ve let him steal my celebratory thoughts for the last several years.
Yes, 2018 just MAY be one of the hardest years I’ve experienced...so far. But I thought the same thing in prior years. And I’ll probably think the same thing about future years.
Hard doesn’t mean bad. It doesn’t have to, anyway.
There are always victories in the hard places. If it wasn’t hard, we wouldn’t have as much of a reason to celebrate when it’s over.
When a person runs a marathon and they finish, I doubt they stop at the end and cry and think about how hard it was and how they wish they had never experienced it and how unfair some of the hills and rocky places were. I don’t know for sure because...well, I don’t run! But I imagine, no matter what place they finish in, when they get to the end and cross that line and are gasping for breath and are exhausted and bruised and sore, I bet they look back and smile.
They made it!
Whether limping across or running full out, they made it! And now they know more what it’s like and what it takes and how to train better. They have experience for the next one.
I’ve said before that when God placed on my heart my theme verse for 2018, I first freaked out a little. The “end of a thing” sounds ominous! The verse, Ecclesiastes 7:8, says, “Better is the end of a thing than the beginning, and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.” I spent several months wondering and worrying about what 2018 might cost me? What would end? That’s pride talking. Pride says it doesn’t want things to end. Pride says it knows better. Pride says it wants what it wants. I didn’t understand the connection between the first and second part of that verse until late in the year…like, super late. Like maybe yesterday?!
I have a post it on my computer that says, “You can’t fully cast your anxieties on God and keep your pride too.” For one to really end, the other has to end, too.
The end.
Endings are not bad.
Actually, endings are never bad when I am truly walking with God.
Endings just make way for new beginnings.
Finally, on the next to last morning of 2018, I slid from my bed down onto my knees on the floor and prayed and apologized to God for choosing to let myself commiserate the endings instead of celebrating the finish line, and stepping into the new beginning He has spent the year preparing me for.
I’m not the same person I was a year ago.
Some things in me had to go.
They had to end in order for the new me to begin.
This has been a process my whole entire life! It’s called maturity. The Bible also calls it “sanctification.”
I’m not the same person I was 10 years ago, because some things in me had to end back then, too. And I’m glad they did! I’m so glad God didn’t leave me in my 29 year old spiritual and emotional position! Can you imagine? Honestly, it would be like running the same race year after year after year, time after time after time. How boring! No new scenery, no new challenges, no new victories.
God doesn’t want that for me. And He doesn’t want it for you.
He wants us to look back, and celebrate how far we’ve run, and smile, and then look ahead with excitement and determination for the next race ahead.
Don’t be deceived though…
There WILL be tough hills, and rocky spots. It will be hard going and exhausting. We may trip and fall sometimes, or get a pebble in our shoe. But we will also get stronger, and faster, and more determined as we realize we never, ever, ever run it alone.
And it’s exhilarating and empowering to think of each year, not as new hardships to overcome, but as new preparation and conditioning for our next race. I know God used my 2015 to help me maneuver through my 2018. And he’ll use my 2018 to make me stronger for another year.
There’s hope and some deep love in that. Endings of anything when dropped into God’s hands are always better.
So, I look back on the tough marathon that was 2018, and though it went nothing like what I had thought or planned, I smile. I made it. I learned a lot. I grew a lot. A lot of things ended that needed to end. It was better than my plan.
Now it’s time to turn and look at the 2019 marathon ahead. It’ll bring new challenges, some new hills and valleys, some beautiful scenery and peaceful moments, some chaos and some quiet, some bruises and some stronger muscles. And some more things will likely end, and other things will begin...and it’s better that way.
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