the turning of the year

Linnea and I were discussing how the new year seems more overwhelming at the start than exciting. It’s as if we’re standing on a cliff daring ourselves to leap, having no idea what lies ahead or what condition we’ll be in when we get there. It’s not all that ominous; we have some pretty solid parachutes. It’s just the unknown, you know? That thing that crawls around the back of our heads sometimes and whispers things. At least as we look back we can see where we’ve been. Ahead, it’s unclear.

I suppose that it’s customary to begin a new era by contrasting it with the old, by looking back on the joys and sorrows of what we’ve seen and done. As I’m coming into the first full week of the new year (and coming up for air after very full holidays), I’m sensing the need to do this. Maybe it’s all the year-end letters sent and received. If you sent one of those to us – thank you! If you didn’t – send one! We love getting them. Maybe it’s all the lists popping up – lists of past year accomplishments, list of new year accomplishments to be had. Maybe it’s good old-fashioned nostalgia.

Whatever it is, here I am writing about it. What else is new?

in which achievement is eclipsed

Hear my confession, interwebs: I think about the past and future primarily in terms of achievement.

I turned thirty this year, and the inevitable comparison to my peers that is my constant companion (thanks Facebook) once again wrapped an arm around me and gave me an awkward side hug. Every day brings about new ways to compare my stage of life, my decisions, and my accomplishments with those around me. It comes in waves – this person got published, this person bought a house, this person’s child won a contest – and it’s always accompanied by the requisite reams of shame for not “achieving” those things by thirty, and guilt for the things I have “achieved” that others haven’t.

As if this was a race.

I don’t begrudge anyone their accomplishments – many of them should rightly be celebrated! Those things – small and large – are displays of growth, or at least signs of life, and we all want to know that we have grown and lived during the year. But what about those years that all we did was grow one year older? We’ve had several of those, and while hindsight has granted better perspective, we still wonder why they occurred. The idea that we somehow “built character” does little to redeem what seems like an awful waste of time.

We grew older this year, and we learned things – “built character” as some might say. We even celebrated some accomplishments – in ourselves and in our kids. But all of these things are kindling compared to the grace of a year given.

a fierce grace

The turning of the year may be a time-bound, man-made construct, but there is something important to looking back at a single orbit around the sun and realizing that we’ve been granted another. Here we are – urchins, who having been trundling around on this globe long enough to love and hate it in equal measure, who have lifted our bowls for more, and it has been given to us. For the time being, we are still here, and for the time being we are in a place to reflect on that fact. What grace is this that God says “one more year”? Perhaps to till around us and prune us until we bear fruit, perhaps to tarry so that others may come to Him, perhaps to give us time to screw up our courage to proclaim the good news of Christ to those around us… At this point the work is not completed, so God has given us another lap around the sun.

And that is, indeed, grace.

It is in this grace that the years take shape for us – old and new. This is a fierce grace that proclaims every new morning that our God is not inactive or docile. He is furiously at work making things new, proclaiming His glory in creation and through His Word and through His people. It is in this grace that all of our yearly achievements are seen for what they really are – precious metal or worthless stubble. And in this grace we have everything we need for the times that seemed worthless. For when we have achieved nothing, when we have fallen short, when we have fallen behind, when we feel worthless – God has given us, freely, Christ Himself.

I look back and I see the hand of God in the year – in the transition, in the work provided, in the opportunities taken and the words published, in the building of a home with all of its new challenges, in the simple joys and sorrows we shared. I see this, and I know that even as the years change, God does not. His love for us and His transforming power in us through Christ is what held us together this year, evident in His Word, His work, and His people.

This is what holds us together as we face the new year – the fierce grace of God has held us in the past. He is not absent. He is not disinterested. He is here – Emmanuel, God with us. And He will be here until the day we cease to orbit the sun.

So until that day:

May your past be lit by the light of Christ, that you may see it held.
May your future be lit by the promise of His presence, and the hope of His love.
May your present be filled to overflowing with His grace.

Here’s to the passing of the old and the coming of the new!