This last day of the year 2020 dawned dreary and cold and I’d be lying if I said that it doesn’t match my mood today. People I love deeply are hurting deeply and my heart aches today too.

This year has brought so much pain and hurt for so many. I suppose I’m still counted as young, but I’ve seen things happen this year that I never thought I’d see happen, changes that I cannot count as positive.

Dismal as it may sound, this next year may be worse than the last. I pray and hope for a happy and healthy new year for all, but we just don’t know. We’re all so anxious to close the door on 2020, to eat an extra portion of peas, collards, and pork and to flip the calendar page, like there is some sort of assurance to be found on a sheet of gridded squares with a new number at the top. Yet if our hope lies in anything other than Christ, it is sadly misplaced.

The thumbs on the hands of the One who formed the earth from void aren’t twiddling in uncertainty. The One who measured the waters in His hands, marked off the heavens with a span, and enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure isn’t furrowing His brow. The One who weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance isn’t intimidated. The One who set Redemption’s plan into motion for this sin-sick, disease stricken, fallen world isn’t shaken or confused about what’s to come.

2020 today and 2021 tomorrow.

Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever.