Ebenezer
We have made it to the final day of a year like no other. If you had told me back in January that, in short order, life would end up looking like it does now, I'd have rolled my eyes. Because no one could ever even dream up something like 2020.
Enough has been described in the few blog posts I actually felt like writing this year. If I want to remember anything, it is that we adapted. Every day of living and breathing this year held the possibility of something else coming out of left field. And the most bizarre thing was, these changes didn't just affect our family, our community, or even our country. Everyone around this gigantic planet had to deal with upheaval and chaos this year.
I won't call reaching the end of 2020 a victory. The four of us within these walls have all wrestled with restlessness, apathy, negativity, laziness, and a stalled walk with the Lord. Most of this year has been like tumbling down a hill. It's not how we intended to get down, but at least we're there.
In the Old Testament, the people of Israel would sometimes build small monuments of stone, as reminders of God's deliverance. They were called Ebenezers, literally stones of help. Jacob, Joshua, and Samuel, among others, didn't want to forget what the Lord had done for them. Because even thousands of years ago, we were still short-sighted.
I don't have any stones, but in my heart, in my mind, here in this blog of our family's history, I am planting a monument and declaring with Samuel, "Thus far the Lord has helped us." 1 Samuel 7:12
Somehow, amid the crazy, hope hasn't gone anywhere. Christmas was merry indeed, and though the hardships we've known care nothing about our definition of time, there is this undercurrent flowing through our hearts that things will soon be better. They must. I have to conclude that we were designed for faith.
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1
As good as it will feel to vengefully rip down that 2020 calendar, I'm almost afraid to trust my faith that a number will make a difference in circumstance. And as I write this, it hits me that if my faith is in a number, I should be afraid.
My walk with the Lord has been rough. I'm bored and frustrated and can't understand why on earth all this is happening and what on earth I'm supposed to do with it, as if He should need to explain Himself to me. Will I ever learn? Hard headed, stiff-necked, the poor children of Israel have nothing on me.
So here I raise my Ebenezer. My most loved ones are healthy. We have been provided for. Jobs and school might be different, but neither one has faltered. Being stuck at home means we are safe, comfortable, full-bellied, and entertained. And we know, beyond the boredom and frustration and seeming senselessness of what is around us, God is on His throne. He is in control, there is purpose in everything, and all things will work together to good.
So here's to 2021. So grateful for another new start.
Here I raise mine Ebenezer
Here by Thy great help I've come
And I hope by Thy good pleasure
safely to arrive at home
Enough has been described in the few blog posts I actually felt like writing this year. If I want to remember anything, it is that we adapted. Every day of living and breathing this year held the possibility of something else coming out of left field. And the most bizarre thing was, these changes didn't just affect our family, our community, or even our country. Everyone around this gigantic planet had to deal with upheaval and chaos this year.
I won't call reaching the end of 2020 a victory. The four of us within these walls have all wrestled with restlessness, apathy, negativity, laziness, and a stalled walk with the Lord. Most of this year has been like tumbling down a hill. It's not how we intended to get down, but at least we're there.
In the Old Testament, the people of Israel would sometimes build small monuments of stone, as reminders of God's deliverance. They were called Ebenezers, literally stones of help. Jacob, Joshua, and Samuel, among others, didn't want to forget what the Lord had done for them. Because even thousands of years ago, we were still short-sighted.
I don't have any stones, but in my heart, in my mind, here in this blog of our family's history, I am planting a monument and declaring with Samuel, "Thus far the Lord has helped us." 1 Samuel 7:12
Somehow, amid the crazy, hope hasn't gone anywhere. Christmas was merry indeed, and though the hardships we've known care nothing about our definition of time, there is this undercurrent flowing through our hearts that things will soon be better. They must. I have to conclude that we were designed for faith.
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1
As good as it will feel to vengefully rip down that 2020 calendar, I'm almost afraid to trust my faith that a number will make a difference in circumstance. And as I write this, it hits me that if my faith is in a number, I should be afraid.
My walk with the Lord has been rough. I'm bored and frustrated and can't understand why on earth all this is happening and what on earth I'm supposed to do with it, as if He should need to explain Himself to me. Will I ever learn? Hard headed, stiff-necked, the poor children of Israel have nothing on me.
So here I raise my Ebenezer. My most loved ones are healthy. We have been provided for. Jobs and school might be different, but neither one has faltered. Being stuck at home means we are safe, comfortable, full-bellied, and entertained. And we know, beyond the boredom and frustration and seeming senselessness of what is around us, God is on His throne. He is in control, there is purpose in everything, and all things will work together to good.
So here's to 2021. So grateful for another new start.
Here by Thy great help I've come
And I hope by Thy good pleasure
safely to arrive at home
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