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How to have a truly happy new year.

For the first time in years, I don’t remember my New Year’s resolution from January. Usually, I write it down in my journal or on a note I stick to my mirror. There’s been many of those dog-eared sticky notes from years past. The year of contentment. Speaking life. We passed pancakes across the breakfast table on January 1st this year. “What do you want from 2018?” I can’t remember my answer. I know what I didn’t want though. I didn’t want to walk into her office and share the parts of my life I’m inclined to hide. I didn’t want to Facetime her the day after she delivered her baby that never breathed. I didn’t want to spend four months wondering how I’d walk into her house on Christmas day and see her empty chair. I didn’t want to go on another first date that led nowhere. We sit across from each other in a little coffee shop in Colorado, picking at a charcuterie board. “When I think about all of the things I have left to go through,” her voice cracks....
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#prayforparis

It’s past midnight before I read the headlines about the attacks on Paris. I’m in the bathroom, washing my face before bed. I start tasting salt as my tears become mixed with the tap water.

It feels like a brick hits me in the gut and I double over, “How long, Jesus?” It’s all I can say as sobs master my body and bring me to the floor of the bathroom. “How long until you come back and make everything right again?”

I recognize His grace.

How He “desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2:4). So, He gives us more time.

I realize my task when it’s 1AM and social media is flashing the hashtag #prayforparis and people are in anguish over the loved ones they’ve lost and the horrors they’ve seen. Here I am, on my bathroom floor in my student house with my student income, compelled to join the battle that is unseen. I cannot sleep now.

I remember who sits on the throne in heaven and I pray and pray and pray for Paris—and for the world.


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