2020: Why I'm Done Letting Years Tell My Story
"Time waits for no man" was Geoffrey Chaucer's pretty way of saying, "Time cares nothing about you, yo' mama, yo' auntie, yo' cousin or yo' brother... and I mean, NOTHING." I was going to ask who Geoffrey Chaucer is anyway, but thank God for Google... author of Canterbury Tales. I HATED Canterbury Tales (sorry Mr. DeBona), but on this one, Mr. Chaucer was right.
This decade has brought me a high school diploma, a college degree, a cosmetology school certificate, a cosmetology license, two masters program acceptances — one enrollment, the first time away from my family, new associates, new friends, like (and only like, accompanied with some venomous abhorrence) for a new city, my first car, my first, second, third, fourth and fifth apartments, a job I loved but didn't know at the time, jobs I've hated, a private break up and public final split up, marriage, a baby, survival and grace through my baby's less than perfect diagnosis and miraculous surgery, a long time thinking I knew Jesus and a beautiful chance to actually know Him.
This next decade, I hope, will be just like the last.
Resolutions vs. reflection.
While many people are reflecting on what 2019 — and also 2010 through 2019 — has brought them, and deciding how those truths will carry into their 2020 lives, I'm choosing to see this next year and decade as just another 11:59 PM to 12:00 AM. I'm all for reflection, but not so much resolutions. Resolutions are often a list of things we internally laugh at, knowing good and well that on a list of seven or eight things we'll only accomplish two or three and be just fine. Reflection, however, begins and brings gradual change in the direction of changed character, improved disciplines, and quality use of our time, talents, and treasures. I'm reflecting. I'm grateful. But I don't want this decade or the next to tell my story.
Time doesn't care about you — and I think I'm coming into a belief that I don't have to care about it either. I want all the time God's given me to tell His story in whatever way He chooses. I want every moment I have to be a reflection of the perfect plan He set for me before I got here. And I've learned, more than anything, that God is going to do whatever He wants to do; I always have no clue what He's about to do — so I'd rather trust in Him than in time.
Plans are fragile.
Don't get me wrong — there is nothing wrong with resolutions. Nothing wrong with writing out what you've accomplished this year and what you intend to accomplish next. Nothing wrong with goal setting and having a plan. But I've learned that my plans are fragile; they are subject to the will and perfect care of a God who is infinitely smarter than me. I'll write the vision, but it won't matter unless I consult the visionary.
I believe time is a culmination of seasons — and seasons do not happen in years. What I know for sure is the season I'm in right now, where my baby isn't sleeping, my marriage is readjusting, and my career is on "Huh?!" — is not going to magically end at the end of the day on Tuesday. I'm going into Wednesday with the same hope I have as I'm writing this; the same hope I had at the beginning of 2019: that God is working and I'm working with Him.
And that work is work.
It's not everybody's year.
Our own internal timetables, our parental expectations, and social media's standards have further led us to believe that years mean something. We expect revolutions at 16, 18, 25, 30, and 50 — and explosions in 2000, 2010, and 2020. But nothing will change, nothing will improve, nothing will explode without accountability, discipline, and rhythm. So I admonish you to make a change today — not Wednesday, and not because a new year is coming, but because you should have in August. Don't let years pass you by while you're stuck in the same season. Don't think a season will end with this year. It's not everybody's year or season — so 2020 may not be "it" either, regardless of the Watch Night message.
What is "it" is right now. "It" is your opportunity to set in place whatever will make tonight and tomorrow better. Time will pass, and so will you — but as it's going and as you're moving, remember to move every day. Not just as a new year is coming, or a milestone birthday is approaching, or a life goal is accomplished. Let not every year make you stronger, but every moment — even the ones that tear you down. Let every season be one for learning every lesson that's taught and presenting it as evidence on your next test. Let God be God; He's the author of time, the narrator, and lucky for us, the editor.
Happy New Day.
We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps. — Proverbs 16:9 NLT
