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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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Itchy Throats and Human Limitation

It’s when I sit alone in the basement I rent on a Tuesday night, my throat itching and my nose dripping, that I realize my limitations.

A plastic bag filled with NyQuil and DayQuil and tea, Vitamin C--every remedy sold in a drugstore--sits on my bedroom floor.

My aching limbs--my limitation.

It’s when I drive home from work at the end of a mediocre week, when I did mediocre work for a solid forty hours. My incapability.

And the future. Hours upon hours gaining speed. Days upon days driving forward. And me: a passenger in the backseat without an ounce of control.

And the struggle with sin, so hard sometimes that I can hardly look in the mirror and recognize myself.

My body, my soul, my flesh, the world, the devil--everything too hard for me to handle.

I feel as if I stepped into life at the wrong moment, someone shook my hand and said, “Congratulations, you’re the Prime Minister and everyone’s counting on you to not screw everything up.” 

And death looming ahead--the greatest reminder of our humanity. Our lack of control. Our utter helplessness.

On a Tuesday night, the Villain seems the most real.

But in every good story, the shadow of the villain only serves to highlight the brilliance, the utter magnificence, the solidity of the hero.

“Since then we have a great high priest who passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” Hebrews 4:14-15

Jesus.

Who had a physical body and experienced pain.

Who lived inside the construct of time--the hours and hours, days and days.

Jesus.

Who battled temptation--minute by minute.

Who lived under expectations. The scrutiny of the world. The plans of His Father.

Jesus. Who faced death.

Who died.

Who conquered.

On a Tuesday night, in a lonely basement, at the end of a silent dirt road. On a Tuesday night, I know one thing.

Jesus, the Conqueror.

Jesus in me. Hope of glory.

A new body.

A sinless world.

Death erased.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” 2 Corinthians 4:16


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