Four Truths to Remember in 2024

I picked out my 2024 calendar a few weeks ago. It sits on my desk, ready for all the plans and expectations a new year brings. I have specific requirements for a calendar. I like it to have space for monthly, weekly, and daily plans. I like space for lists and reminders, monthly goals and daily tasks.

I guess it’s because I’m a planner. I love thinking about the future. I love setting goals and making plans. I make lists for each day and cross items off as I complete them. There’s some sort of satisfaction in seeing everything crossed off at the end of the day. And my new calendar gives me lots of space to do just that.

A new year, though filled with possibility and dreams yet to come true, can also be filled with uncertainty. In my own life, the past couple of years have brought great loss and upheaval, change and transition. It’s been a struggle to manage the roller coaster of emotions. To find myself in the midst of all the change. To keep my eyes fixed on Christ in the twists and turns of circumstances. Even now, I’m in a season of waiting, wondering what the Lord has next for our family and struggling to keep my hands open for whatever he provides.

I recently read the book, I Want to Escape, by Rush Witt. In it he recounts a story about Andrew Murray who provided counsel to a woman enduring difficult circumstances. At the time, he himself was in physical pain and could not meet the woman in person, so he asked someone else to pass on the message to her instead. He gave her several things to remember about God in times of trouble: 1) “He brought me here. It is by his will I’m in this strait place, in that I will rest.” 2) “He will keep me here in his love, and give me grace in this trial to behave as his child.” 3) “He will make the trial a blessing, teaching me lessons he intends me to learn, and working in me the grace he means to bestow.” 4) “In his good time, he can bring me out again. How, and when, he knows.”

These are truths I’m speaking to my own heart as I embark on a new year. Whatever plans I scratch out in my calendar, whatever lists I make for myself, whatever I hope will happen in 2024, I know that God’s plans supersede my own. He’s already worked out all that this year entails. He’s planned and decreed it to the minutest detail. There are no mistakes to his plan, nothing that he’s overlooked. It will unfold in just the right time and just as I need it. There will certainly be changes to my life in 2024. There will likely be unexpected challenges. There will be lessons to learn and opportunities to rest in his grace. In it all, I know he keeps me in his loving care.

None of us know what 2024 will look like. Yes, we make our plans, but God determines our steps (Prov. 16:9). He is a good and perfect Father. We can trust this new year to him. As Tim Keller once said, “If we knew what God knows, we would ask for exactly what he gives.”

Father in heaven, we enter this new year with open hands, expecting great things from you for you know exactly what we need. Keep us in your loving care and help us to wait and watch with wonder at what you will do in and through us. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Photo by Eric Rothermel on Unsplash

Enough for Today

I’ve always been a planner. I set goals and work toward them. I look ahead to potential obstacles and prepare for them. My friends know to come to me for a Band-aid or an Advil or a pen to write with because my purse is fully stocked. I’m quick to remind my sons of their own Boy Scout motto, “a Scout is always prepared.”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned these past couple of years, it is the importance of holding all my plans loosely. To live open handed, yielding to the Lord’s plan and not my own. To trust in his timely provision of grace. As James exhorts us, “you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that” (James 4:15). I learned this during the pandemic, when one plan after another was cancelled—a humble reminder that I have no control over the details of my life. I learned it too when I was in a car accident—over a year ago now—one whose residual trauma made it difficult to drive for a while. My life then seemed to shrink down to moment by moment as I was forced to slow down, to rest, and to wait for healing.

These lessons are hard, but necessary, for they push me to trust in the Lord to meet my needs for today, not trusting in my well thought out plans, lists, or stocked emergency kit. Now don’t get me wrong, being prepared is a good thing. The trouble is when those preparations make us think we are in control—that we are the gods and goddesses of our own kingdoms. When we put our trust in our plans, lists, and preparations rather than in God. When we cease to be dependent upon him and trust in our strength and provision instead.

I am reminded of the Lord’s faithful provision for his people in Exodus. When God brought the Israelites out of Egypt and into the wilderness, he fed them each day with manna. It was a bread-like substance that appeared on the ground each day. The Bible compares it to coriander seed which they had to gather each morning. Imagine picking up tiny seeds each day, enough for your family to eat! Based on how much my teenage boys eat, I would have spent the entire day gathering enough for just one meal!

They had to consume the manna the same day for by the next day it would go bad and be inedible. Before the Sabbath, they gathered enough to last throughout their day of rest. In this way, God taught them to rely on him each day to provide for their needs. Jesus spoke about the manna in John 6, revealing that manna pointed to something greater than daily bread; it pointed to Someone greater. "Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” (John 6:32-33).

God gives us the grace we need for this day. And then the next day, he’ll provide what’s needed for that day. This doesn’t mean we don’t have tasks to do. It doesn’t mean we simply sit back and wait for life to happen. After all, Israel had to go out and pick up the manna God provided. In a similar way, we have to utilize the means of grace God provides. We have to read and study God’s word to know his will for our lives. We have to pray and ask him to meet our needs. We have to fellowship with other believers who can direct us to his grace when we’ve lost our way. We go out and pick up the manna for this day, knowing that tomorrow’s manna will arrive right on time.

Ultimately, it’s a heart posture. It’s living out the truth that we submit all our goals and plans to the One who rules over them. It’s a submissive, humble heart that trusts the Lord to meet us where we are with exactly what we need, when we need it. It’s a heart that doesn’t fear the future. It’s a heart that doesn’t trust in our own way, but in God’s way. It’s a heart that desires God’s will, not our own. As Tim Keller once tweeted, “If we knew what God knows, we would ask exactly for what he gives.”[1]

How freeing this is! I continue to make my plans. I still prepare for the day, for the week, for even the year. My purse still has an extra pen and Band-Aid for anyone who needs it. But all those plans and preparations must be entrusted to the Lord and his perfect will. My plans may go as expected or they might not. But one thing I do expect is great things from God—for his plans are far far greater than my own.

[1] https://twitter.com/timkellernyc/status/425310026203680768?lang=en

*Photo by Lina Trochez on Unsplash

Making Plans, the Future, and Hope in Eternity

“It’s hard not having something to look forward to,” I recently remarked to my husband.

In this strange new time in which we live, we’ve quickly learned that any plans we make must be held loosely. As someone who loves to make plans and work hard toward those plans, this is a challenge for me. Whether it is a family vacation, a ministry event, family gathering, or prepping for the next school year, every plan I make is subject to change due to this ever-changing pandemic. While I’ve always known that I have to hold plans loosely, after all it is God who directs my steps regardless of what I plan (Proverbs 16:9), I’ve seldom lived as though it is true. I make plans and work toward them with the expectation they will likely come to fruition, or at least some version of them will.

But these days, plans are held much loosely than ever before. And as a result, I realize more and more how much hope I place in my plans.

Don’t get me wrong. Making plans or setting goals is not a wrong thing. If we didn’t make plans and didn’t work toward something, we’d not be living out our purpose as image bearers and Kingdom cultivators. If the farmer didn’t look ahead to the next season, he wouldn’t plant seeds and tend to them. He also wouldn’t have anything to eat come harvest time.

Setting goals, planning for the future, and working toward that future are all necessary. I think for me, the challenge is in realizing how much hope I put into that future. How much the idea of that future shapes my present. How my plans and goals define me and give my life meaning. And more, how much I NEED to have that thing to look forward to.

Without any big things to look forward to, I find my heart wandering and seeking to refill that gap. I find myself looking for something, anything to plan and set a goal for. My husband called me the other day from work and asked what I was doing. “Browsing online for a house in the mountains for when we are empty-nesters,” I responded.

Ouch. As I spoke those words aloud, I realized I was chasing an idol. I was looking for something to fill the void all my cancelled plans had left behind.

The Spirit is gentle yet firm with me. It’s no coincidence I am reading through Isaiah right now, a book filled with examples of Israel’s idolatry and the Lord’s compelling call for them to repent and return back to himself. As I read the prophet’s words, I am reminded of how weak and meaningless my idols are (Isaiah 57:13), how they cannot save, rescue, or redeem. I’m also reminded of Calvin’s observations that our hearts are like idol making factories: Remove one, and another takes its place.

But that longing for something in the future, that longing to have something to look forward to, that is an important longing I cannot ignore. That longing is like a shadow of the real thing. Too often, I look to the shadow as the substance. In truth, it can’t even compare. Instead of focusing on what I miss right now, what I can’t have, or can’t do, or can’t plan for, I need to look beyond the temporal future and into eternity.

There is a future ahead for me that I can live for and plan for and wait for with great expectation and hope. It is a certain future far more grand than any vacation I could imagine. It is a future filled with far more meaning and significance than anything I might fill my calendar with on a daily basis. This future that will one day blow away the joy I might miss right now from not being with friends and family or pursuing an important goal or dream. For this future is more than I could ever dream.

“For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in that which I create; for behold, I create Jerusalem to be a joy, and her people to be a gladness. I will rejoice in Jerusalem and be glad in my people; no more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping and the cry of distress” (Isaiah 65:17-19).

This weird in-between time as we wait for the pandemic to get under control is a reminder that we live in-between the already and not yet of our faith being made sight. We live in a world that is not our home while we wait for our eternal home with Christ. It’s a difficult tension at times, being in the world but not of it. It’s hard to remember that the joys we experience now are not the end themselves, but only a foretaste of what is to come. The harsh truth is that the more we are rooted in this world, the harder it is to ready ourselves for the one to come.

As the Lord shines a light on the idols of my heart, I am thankful for his grace and mercy. As I repent and pray for a transformed heart, I also pray for his grace to live faithfully for him, not only in the midst of this pandemic, but also as I wait for eternity to come.

Father, forgive me for seeking life and hope outside of you. Help me to find in you all I long for and desire. Fill my thirst and satisfy my soul in Christ. Ready and prepare me for my future in glory. May I live faithfully in the present, all the while looking to the future with great anticipation and joy. In Jesus’s name, amen.

Searching for a Forever Home

I’ve long enjoyed watching those shows where a realtor helps people search for a new house. They usually tour several homes and at the end of the show, they pick their favorite. I like seeing the inside of different homes, the diversity in architecture, and what homes are like in different corners of the country. I often find myself disagreeing with the homeowner’s final choice.

At the start of these shows, the home hunters describe the size and location of the house they desire, often ending with something like this: “We are looking for our forever home.” Forever home. So much is wrapped up in those two words. It’s a sentimental statement for sure, filled with memories, traditions, and family. It evokes feelings of contentment, peace, and satisfaction. There’s a finality to it. A dream come true.

I appreciate the sentiment. I love all things family and tradition. There’s something special about having the perfect picture window to place the Christmas tree in front of each year. Establishing a homestead to raise a generation and have them return each year with their own children is a worthy goal. I can relate to desire to create memories with loved ones gathered around the kitchen counter or dining table. And to etch a child’s height on the doorway molding throughout the years. To have a mantle to hang stockings on each year. To have that big wall in the family room on which to hang pictures of the kids as they grow throughout the years.

But as a believer, whenever I hear the phrase “forever home” I pause, because there’s something lacking in the sentiment. Actually, a few somethings. First, it assumes we know the future. We all want a semblance of control in our lives. Who wouldn’t want to know that you’ll live in the same house, in the same town for the rest of your life? By declaring something as “forever” we attempt to take that control, to steer our life where we want it to go. Yet to declare that where one lives as a “forever home” assumes that we know God’s plan for our lives. But as Proverbs reminds us “The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps” (16:9). It may be that we live in one place for five years and then God calls us to relocate elsewhere. Like all our goals and plans in life, the very place we live ought to be held loosely, yielding to God’s sovereign will and plan. As James exhorts, “you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that” (4:15).

Sometimes, the idea of a “forever home” can become an idol we worship. It can be held up as the epitome of success and achievement in life. It can be one of those things we strive for, so much so, we aren’t satisfied or content until we have it. A house becomes that one thing we think will make us feel content and at peace. I know my own heart has whispered “If only I had__________” (a bigger house, a house with a yard, a house with a playroom, a house with an open concept to hosts friends, a house closer to friends, etc). We look to the perfect home to give our lives meaning and purpose and identity, rather than the One who made us.

The idea of a “forever home” also presupposes that God wants us to park ourselves in one spot and plant roots in the soil of this world. Many in our culture view this world as all there is. They don’t believe in life after death; therefore, they have to live their “best life now.” They have to meet all their goals, achieve all their dreams, and acquire all they can in the here and now. For some, that includes a “forever home.” If life ends at death, it makes sense that one would want a beautiful home to live in “forever.” But for those who are in Christ, we know that this world is not all there is. We are pilgrims— nomads on a journey in this world. This is not our home. Like Abraham, whom God called to himself and set him on a journey to the land of Canaan, we are on a journey to a place God has promised for us. And like Abraham, we won’t settle in that place in this life—he didn’t own but a burial plot when he died.

Our own Savior didn’t have a home of his own (Matt. 8:20). When Jesus ascended into heaven, he said he was going to prepare a forever place for us. One day he will return to judge the earth and make all things new. On that day, we will receive our “forever home.” We will live on the new earth for all eternity, worshiping and praising the One whom is our home and dwelling place. “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God” (Rev. 21:3).

There’s nothing wrong with settling into a home and raising a family there. It’s a blessing not everyone gets to experience, but it is one to be appreciated. We just have to remember that it’s not our ultimate joy. The perfect home will not make us feel complete and whole. It’s a temporary dwelling, a safe and dry place to lay our heads and eat meals with the ones we love. Like any good gift from God, our homes ought to point us to him. Because our real home—our forever home—is found in the presence of God himself.