I’m sitting in my living room tucked under a blanket; I’ve got my coffee in had, the candles are lit, the Christmas lights are glowing, and I can hear the church bells continuously ringing. I don’t know if this is a preemptive welcoming of the new year, or just an effort of Rostrevor to be a little more magical than usual.
It’s hard to wrap my mind around today being the last day of 2014. For me, this particular day just feels like Wednesday (or perhaps a Saturday.) Part of me feels that I should do something “significant” to commemorate the occasion (though I’m not quite sure what that might be), or perhaps reflect on the previous year. I have been on holiday since the 23rd of December, and I have been using this time to sleep, drink coffee, sleep, read, and for a few moments – reflect. I have not reflected so much on what has come before, but rather, where I am going – and with who.
For the last few months, in all the things that have happened, all the traveling, the transitioning, and the turmoil, I have become aware of the still, small voice of God whispering to me that a new season is on its way… That the preparations I have been making will not be in vain, that the little smolder of hope in my spirit is not to remain a flicker, but will ignite and light the path as I walk forward.
I haven’t taken these whisperings particularly well. I want details! Dates! I want to know what to prepare myself for – do I need to buy things? Clear my calendar? Write a newsletter? I don’t know, but I get the distinct impression that God has been creating something spectacular in secret for me, a surprise too delicate to withstand any scrutiny or interference.
This morning, I drove one of our outreach teams to the airport – and as I was driving back in the van alone, I had a quiet, sweet, long overdue time with the Lord. It wasn’t flashy, I didn’t cry or sing or look from the outside like I was doing anything other than driving an enormous 15-seater down the motorway. But in that very normal moment, I finally dropped the defenses of my heart and said to God, “I don’t want to try to control what you are doing in my life anymore. I trust you to do all the best things, please just make it obvious so I can keep up with you.” It was a moment of palpable relief and joy – to surrender not only my efforts of trying so damn hard all the time but also, that quiet little lie that God isn’t truly trustworthy.
The rest of this day has been so peaceful, so sweet, and I already feel a sense of expectation – that the little dreams of my heart are beginning to be fulfilled.
Well, 2015 – I’m not going to to charge into you with my sword drawn and my battle plan in place. I’m going to rest here in my living room with my coffee, and my candles, and let your clean waves wash over me.
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for love is the breath 