A New Year, A New Hope

When I was a little girl, the idea of New Year’s Eve felt a little scary. I imagined the Earth completing its long journey around the sun, and once the clock struck midnight on December 31, it was as if we stepped into a brand-new world—leaving the old one behind.

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To me, it felt like a door closing on the ones we lost during the year. After my grandmother died, I was hesitant to celebrate the new year. I feared that once her passing was officially in the “previous year,” she would somehow feel even farther away. It felt like a betrayal to move forward.

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But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to understand that calendars and clocks don’t define who we are or how we feel. I heard a song lyric once that asked, “How old would we be if we didn’t know when we were born?” What a powerful question.

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The phases of life we go through rarely follow a schedule. We celebrate milestones—birthdays, anniversaries, and other events measured by years—but the depth of those celebrations cannot be measured by time. And in times of loss and grief, we once again refer to our calendars, trying to make sense of our pain.

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When my dad died, I read countless articles on grief. Some suggested setting a time limit—grieve for a few months and then move on. It sounds comforting, doesn’t it? The idea that after a set number of days, you’ll magically be able to move forward. But our hearts don’t work that way. Our minds don’t follow that kind of schedule.

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Sometimes we get stuck in our grief. Whether that grief is the loss of a loved one, a failing relationship, or regret over something we’ve done—or failed to do—it can be hard to move forward. Grief is hard, but staying in it is effortless. It takes no energy to remain in that place.

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But here’s the hope that changes everything: we don’t have to stay there. And we don’t have to rely solely on our own strength to move forward. Through the cleansing, renewing power of Jesus, we can begin again. It doesn’t matter what happened last year, last decade, or even last week. We have the promise of renewal through Christ.

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At the end of our lives—and at the end of the world—all the things that burden us will be left behind. Just as my younger self imagined the old year falling away, so too will our pain, our grief, and our regrets. But this time, there won’t be any confusion or fear—only peace.

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Revelation 21:4 gives us this promise:

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will no longer exist; grief, crying, and pain will exist no longer, because the previous things have passed away.” (HCSB)

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What a promise! Of all the things that weigh on our hearts, we know—not hope, but know—that they will be wiped away. Not might be. Will be.

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As we turn the calendar page to a new year, let’s imagine how much peace we could find in our lives if we didn’t carry the weight of everything we regret or fear. Let’s remember that we can start again—right now.

 

A Prayer for Renewal

Dear Lord, thank you for meeting us in this moment. Thank you for your Word, which reminds us that you are our peace, our light, and our renewal. In our heaviness, help us remember we can begin again—right now—through you. We thank you for your blessings, for your Son, and for the healing renewal you bring to our hearts. Amen.