Meticulous planning went into our New Year’s Eve celebration of 1999-2000. For those too young to remember, this was the infamous Y2K—cue The Twilight Zone theme. Life, as we knew it, may not continue.
The predictions poured in: networks would crash, technology be irrevocably altered, power grids go ominously dark, and clean water hard to be found.
The big evening arrived, and we determined to make each minute of this apocalyptic night count. Donning our matching shirts, we posed for pictures.
In the case that we did actually make it, we recorded resolutions.
(Apparently, my struggle with trusting the Lord is longstanding).
Together, we sat down for what may very well be our last supper. And, jolly jingles, if it was to be our last, then it was going to be good! Everyone’s favorites had been prepared. Suz asked for mashed potatoes, my mother French onion soup, someone else lasagna, and so continued the mismatched meal. It didn’t matter—the point was to enjoy ourselves, and that’s exactly what we did!
After that, we changed for what we deemed would be nice pictures for posterity. (And aren’t we glad we did?)
Finally, twenty minutes was given to each person for a fun activity in which all would participate. The guys decided to combine their time to play floor hockey, so off we went to the church gym. I wish I had pictures of this—my then white-haired 69-year-old mother was one of the goalies! Which, I must note, was a smart move on her team’s part because no one was going to try to whip the puck too fast at Grams.
Not to be outdone, two of the girls decided we should stay at the church and play hide-and-seek…in the dark. Imagine running around in the pitch-black building knocking into another body unawares, and seeing shadows roll under the pews as you race over the top trying to get away! There was much shuffling, more than a few quiet giggles, and even a scream or two. Oh, and let’s not forget the one terrified college student who happened to be staying in the church over the holidays. He came in around 11:00 PM to unknown intruders dashing around! Finally, just before the mom’s boring choice of a walk, we took more pictures. We thought we should record the phone working, the water running and the lights shining.
As we waited for the clock to turn to 12:01, it occurred to us that, with only one jug of water stowed in the garage, we were going to be mighty thirsty if the doomsayers were right.
They weren’t.
But you knew that.
For me, rewinding to that epic night was a spiritual exercise.
You see, recently, there has been a continual feed over social media of everyone’s “decade-in-review.” Apparently, I was the only one that had not had the very bestest and most amazingest decade ever.
Not for one minute do I begrudge anyone for posting grand events and smiling faces. As my Aussie friends would say, “Good on, ya, mate!”
But, me? Try as I might, sometimes that monkey known as comparison does land on my shoulder.
So, I’m just going to say it—I am glad to have the decade of 2009-2019 behind me.
And maybe you feel the same way. It’s not like nothing good happened—but it was hard.
I am tempted to say that the best thing about the decade that just passed is exactly that…it passed.
Quite possibly, Asaph felt the same way. In Psalm 77, he cried out to God in lamentation, which is an old word for grief. His heart ached, and he could see no hope or relief in sight. He actually admitted that, instead of peace, he was overwhelmed and troubled when he thought about God (v. 3). Though commissioned by David to lead singing in the tabernacle, Asaph couldn’t even remember his own songs that once brought him comfort in the night (v. 6).
At one point, he accused God of torturing his sleep, while his questions poured out unchecked. “Have you cast me off forever, God? Do you not have any more mercy? Have You forgotten how to be loving and compassionate?” (vv. 7-9).
Isn’t it wonderful that God didn’t snip this brutally honest passage out of our Bible?
I join in with Asaph’s struggle, then cheer him on as he shakes his head and grabs the reins of his heart—
“I will remember the works of the LORD: surely I will remember thy wonders of old. I will meditate also of all thy work, and talk of thy doings…Thou art the God that doest wonders: thou hast declared thy strength among thy people” (vv. 11-12, 14).
There are times when to go forward we must stop.
And remember.
As I went back to the night we ushered in a new millennium, my heart turned, and the good stuff began to surface. By the time I got to New Year’s Eve of 2020, I could not deny the evident grace—even in the times I never want to repeat.
Yes, the last ten years have been the hardest of my life, and yet there are so many blessings I would not change. Though far too many to list here, these definitely stand out:
I gained my will back to live,
I made many new friends,
I became a biblical counselor,
I traveled twice to Europe and drove thousands of miles by myself, and to top the list, I was blessed with three precious new grandchildren.
No one is more aware than I that none of the above would have been possible without the grace of God.
When Asaph stopped to remember all that God had brought him through, he sang about the greatness of God, then concluded with—
“Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen” (Psalm 77:13, 14a, 19, ESV).
My friend, not seen, does not mean not present.
We laughed at Y2K because we knew that none of us could do anything about any real or imagined impending doom. In regards to the world’s computers, we had neither the power, the wisdom, or the expertise to control a thing.
In regards to what is ahead, the same holds true. We do not have the power, the wisdom, or the expertise to control a thing.
But God does, and God will.
And therein lies the secret of making the next decade photo-worthy.
It’s stopping to remember that, whether we see Him there or not, God’s grace is always in every picture.
