Fear Not Tomorrow

When I opened Streams in the Desert on January 1, I read the following verses from Deuteronomy 11:

But the land you are crossing the Jordan to take possession of is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the Lord your God cares for; the eyes of the Lord your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end. (vv. 11-12)

I had no idea. Not about the mountains of joy I would experience in falling in love...in publishing a book...in hearing the whisper of my Abba. Not about the valleys of failure...defeat...faithlessness...despair...that I would walk through in my desert days. But as I stand on the last day of a year, I can say with absolute certainty that the eyes of my Lord have not strayed from my path from January 1 until today. He has put up with me, comforted me, loved me, blessed me, disciplined me, carried me, prodded me to walk on my own, wiped away my tears, laughed with me, and never once has He looked away. Even when I accused Him of doing just that.

This year has been so full. My heart overflows with emotions I can't even describe as I think about what I endured, what I overcame, what I enjoyed, and even what I avoided.

In many ways, I hope this next year is "better." I say that completely selfishly. I would love to see prayers answered favorably to my asking. But I've seen enough of His hand at work this year to know that truly, what I want, is more of HIS work and more of HIS will. And if that means more valleys...or rather, since it will mean more valleys...I know that's what I truly want at the core.

I love endings and fresh beginnings. And we're about to get one at midnight tonight.

I leave you this year with a song that I listened to over and over this year. I love its message and I'm honored to say that I can call the song's writer my friend. The main portion of the song was written by a sweet lady named Carolyn Adkins, and she has been such an encouragement to me this year. My dad has played this song on his radio program for years, but this year it gained special meaning to me, and I leave you with this as my anthem: