At the beginning of 2022, I set out on a journey. In December each year, I pick a word — or I should say, God picks a word — that is on my heart to come alive in the new year. While one word couldn’t possibly capture or shape everything in an entire year, it certainly becomes a great part of it. It acts as a sort of compass, something that guides my thoughts and feelings, a strong indicator for where my heart is, a guiding instrument that leads me throughout the year into the wonder of discovering what that word really means for me. It is a tradition that began years ago in my family and one that Tayler and I now carry on. In 2020, our word was “Courage.” I don’t need to explain to you why that was necessary for that year; we can all relate. The unique part about picking a word before the year begins is that I don’t know what the year yet holds. I might think I have some idea, but I can’t look around the corner to see what themes of the year will unfold as I go through it. Courage.. we had no idea what that would mean at the time we chose it in December 2019. And when I look back at choosing that word just before the dawn of 2020, I feel sadness in the corners of my mouth. Joy with sadness. The feeling of — if we only knew. If we only knew just how much Courage we would need that year. The sadness of all we would go through together. And the joy now of having walked through it together. They coexist beautifully. And when I got to know sadness intimately, I came to realize that the gift of sadness is “joy with sadness.” What does that mean? Maybe you have felt it.
For me, I would describe it as standing on a mountain. The view is sheer and beautiful, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I am on top of this mountain standing with those that have climbed it with me. We are all exhausted, but full of life and joy from what unexpected gifts the journey gave us. The mountain we are on is not one I actually even chose to climb. It was put in my path and there was no other way. A mountain designed by God, crafted by his Hand especially for me. As I stand on this mountain surrounded by the breath taking scenery, I look back down it. Behind me and down the mountain are many swirling dark valleys, followed by more mountains. The valleys are deep and tretcherous, the alternating mountain ranges continue past where my eyes allow me to see. Joy with sadness is being able to look back at those deep, dark valleys — places of extreme pain and discomfort — and to feel a deep resounding gratitude. It is to acknowledge the sadness I have felt, seen and experienced, and accept with joy that I am where I am today, on this gorgous peak, because of what I have been through in the valley below. It is to know that I am broken, that my life is broken and that those I love are broken too. It is to believe that Jesus came to us a man and His body was broken so that I could one day find true north, my final home, and be whole in God’s presence. Thank you, Jesus, for joy with sadness. Imagine the disciples and how they felt after Jesus had perished on the cross, come back to see them once more, and then ascended into heaven. What did they talk about the rest of their lives? What stories did they tell? I am certain that many times, they encountered the gift of joy, “joy with sadness.” They must have felt a gaping hole left by Jesus’ earthly presence, the ability to talk and hangout with him, sharing meals in person face to face. And at the same time, they must have felt an immense gratitude for the memories and time they had with Him. The joy that they were the chosen 12 to walk with Him as He carried out his mission. The gladness of recounting conversations and fishing trips with their Master. And of course, the joy they had from His Spirit being with them in a new way.
The new year and the word I choose to pursue in it are important to me. I share about 2020, and I smile thinking back to “Courage” and how I needed it more than I ever knew in the moment I chose it. 2022 offered me something I hope I can put into words. My word was “Storehouse.”
In 2022, I needed the Storehouse. And that is exactly why God and I chose the word. Storehouses are meant to hold things, and they have been used and relied on all the way back to Biblical times. They have held water, food, resources — they hold what you need. They are a place of safety and refuge for the resources needed in your life. A storehouse replenishes your life. I need a lot of things in my life. That is a statement I have grown to be a lot more comfortable with in recent years. When I thought and prayed about the year ahead in 2022, I knew there were a lot of things I needed. I could name some, but some of the them I couldn’t and I didn’t know exactly what I needed. I just knew the Storehouse would be holding it for me, God’s storehouse. A place of refuge and endless replenishment. So, last December, I set out to make it my word, and my place.
A more recent tradition than choosing my word for the year is participating in a 21 day fast at the start of the year with my church. A couple years ago I decided to commit to it when I began to learn a little bit about fasting. I became more curious because it didn’t seem to be something I could fully understand without doing it. It is one of the most neglected spiritual practices for a reason; it is a hard one. There are many challenges to engaging in the 21 day fast — but I don’t want to harp on that, for I’m not sure either of us will get much out of that writing. What I want to share is this — the Storehouse, God’s Storehouse, gave me all the sustinence, wisdom, mercy, and solitude I needed.
When we fast together, my church encourages us not to “broadcast” we are fasting to others. It’s not that we can’t share about it openly or are not willing to talk about it and why we’re doing it. It’s that we don’t want telling other people we’re fasting to be the reason we’re fasting. We are doing it to experience the presence of God. That said, this series I am going to share closing out this year is not intended to broadcast the fast I am about to embark on. It is looking back at the one I participated in last year, and sharing a few pieces of it that are dearly special to my heart. My hope is that by sharing these pieces, you will also gain something from them and be encouraged to reflect upon what gifts you have received from this year. Perhaps you will even choose a word that will help shape your 2023. And maybe, you will be as curious as I was about what happens when you fast.
I am grateful for each of you — friends, family, and acquantinces from along the journey, who read these. As we head into a new year, wherever you are across the world, I share these special pieces of my last year’s journey with you.
This is the Storehouse.