Rachel Fisher, Children’s Ministries Communications Specialist

Lamentations 3:19-24 (NIV)
19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
    the bitterness and the gall.
20 I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me.
21 Yet this I call to mind
   and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”

Reflection:
Do you ever wish time could be bottled up and stored forever, always available to visit at a moment’s notice? Social media, while problematic at times, can be a beautiful tool in revisiting old memories. The other night I found myself sucked into a wormhole of previous posts, reminiscing of years past through the lens of my former self. 

While enjoying the nostalgia, I could not help but feel a wave of melancholy wash over me. “How I desire to return to this simpler time. Things were so much easier back then,” I thought to myself. Looking at how carefree and cheerful I appeared, I found myself asking… “Am I as happy now in the present as I was in the past?” 

This question plagued me for hours after I had exited the app, pacing around in my mind as I inadvertently attempted to solve the age-old mystery: do things really get better?

I wish there was a Magic 8-Ball with a straightforward answer, but I suppose I will have to stick with what the Bible tells me: yes because things were not actually as great as they seemed.

Despite what Instagram may lead me to believe, the past really was not as rose-colored as it is portrayed. This is not to say I have not had a wonderful life thus far—in fact, it is quite the opposite—I love how my story has played out. The kicker is, however, when I truly dig deep into who I was “way back when,” I generally forget the struggles endured that led me to be the person I am now. 

The problem with romanticizing the past is that we leave no room to admire God’s handiwork. While I have no problem reflecting on my ecstatic joy from growth, I cannot forget that each time was preceded by periods of overwhelming fear from change. One would think by now I could recognize God’s provision during all stages of transformation, but somehow I still quiver when imagining “the future,” and pine for the security of “the past.” The fact is, though, that God’s plan for me has always been brighter than my own renderings. And leaping into the unknown with God by my side consistently yields the best results.

I take great comfort in Amanda Gorman’s powerful inaugural poem, “The Hill We Climb,” which features this prophetic line:

When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid
The new dawn blooms as we free it
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it
If only we’re brave enough to be it

We, as followers of Jesus, are called to remember—not revoke nor reside in—yesterday. These memories, while important, should not define us. Instead, it is our faithfulness to our Lord that carries us onward and upward into a brighter tomorrow. In Christ, there is a new narrative, a new beginning, a new life. We simply must be brave enough to be it.

Prayer: 

Gracious and loving God, thank you for instilling in us the desire to move. Help us navigate which direction to go, holding our heads up high as we charge forth into your wondrous plans. Lead us to you, Lord. Give us the courage to try, just as Jesus stepped out in faith. Amen.