The Next Part of the Story

The future is a funny thing, isn't it? You never know quite what to expect, really. Yet, there are those parts you generally could expect—or at least logically guess as a result of the natural course of life and the law of cause and effect. But those parts are the ones that always seem to creep up on you. Those are the parts you never seem to anticipate actually happening to you, even if you have no idea why you should be exempt from them.

One of those parts crept up on me recently, on the nineteenth of January, to be exact. Somehow the earth managed to go around the sun another time (as my roommate so kindly informed me), and, apparently, I turned twenty. Who knew?

I started this blog in 2012, thinking I had come up with the perfect title: "Thoughts of an Abnormal Teenage Girl." I was convinced that it described me (as well as the general purpose of my internet writings) quite well. This year, however, I hit a bit of a speed bump. Though I can give you my report cards from high school to confirm that I really can do math, the thought honestly never crossed my mind that there would come a day when the counting of years-since-birth would culminate in a total beyond the conceivable allowance for the classification "teenager." Alas, the title would have to change.

At first, this realization was not easy. Not one person had any good news concerning the concept of "twenty." I talked with a lot of people too. "Life only goes downhill from here," they said. "Oh, yeah. That's the prime. Enjoy those days while they last." "You're so old." "Your bones are creaking." Thank you, thank you, thank you. Hmmph.

But as I reflected on the story that has been my life so far, as I bowed in humble thanks before my Savior for the twenty years He has given me to walk this earth and to learn to know Him, I realized that life is indeed not changing much nor over at all but merely continuing in the peace, love, joy, and beauty that has characterized it from the beginning. That's what happens when you walk with God. You see in the past the perfection of His narrative and can look forward to a future that is every bit as perfectly written as the rest of His-story.

Thus, I found that I could look upon this change as yet another chance to admire His perfect prose. What would He do next? I tread this new path carefully, turning over various titles in my head, staring blankly at walls as I pieced words together, and praying for days as I wondered over the journey of this blog, its purpose, its message, its future, and the necessity of finding a new name that described it all. I believe an answer came, as you can now see at the top of the page, but I thought I'd share with you some of the background of this step in the hope that—together—we can grasp its full meaning.

The word "together" is an important one. I pause here to sincerely thank all whose eyes take in the lettering of this line; your willingness to engage with my writing is such a blessing. I view this as a partnership, I value your input, and I thank you for walking with me as we learn—slowly but surely—how to look at life well—perhaps, even, from a new perspective.

That's what this new title is all about, really: taking a new perspective. I'm convinced it's a perspective that comes when you experience the forgiveness, the acceptance, the redemption, and the power of that new life that is life with Christ. When His love washes over you, cleansing and restoring every part of your being, you can't help but see the world, yourself, your fellow humans, and your blessed Savior through a brand new lens—a lens of hope.

I call it an "eyeglass of hope" here. I like the ring better. I also like the subtle connotation of history that the word "eyeglass" conveys. It brings images of the ancient monocle to my mind—but also (I suppose) embodies the various forms of corrective lenses used today to help us see better. I think hope does help us see better. Our eyes behold a truer reality when we view it through the beauty of the death and resurrection of Jesus. There is hope, and when we look at Jesus, we can see it.

But the monocle also adds another level of meaning. It sat only on one eye, remember? One could squint to look through it, but it did not provide perfect vision. It did not enable you to see everything. I think this is the case for us too. "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known" (I Corinthians 13:12, KJV). By God's grace, we can catch a glimpse of what the world looks like through His eyes, through a lens of hope. There are dark days and lots of clouds sometimes, and we cannot always see as clearly as we would like. But my hope in this blog is to give you a chance to rub the smudges off your monocle, to take a deep breath, and to look—if only for a moment—through an eyeglass of hope.

Christ truly provides a new perspective when you choose to find your home in His love. Let's continue the journey of knowing that together.

"Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken." —Psalm 62:5-6 (NIV 1984)