As I read through the Bible, I notice how the writers of scripture use literary devices—metaphor, simile, hyperbole, paradox and so on—to paint a picture or impart truth.
One of my favorites is personification—when inanimate objects and concepts take on human traits. In the Old Testament, for example, we see rivers and trees clapping their hands, mountains breaking into singing and shouting together for joy, waters trembling in God’s sight and wisdom calling out in the streets. (Psalm 77:16, Psalm 98:8, Isaiah 55:12, Proverbs 1:20)
Another literary device that is common in scripture is the use of irony. Think of Joseph, whose brothers’ traitorous action of selling him into slavery paved the way for the eventual salvation of the entire family. (Genesis 45:4-7) Then there’s Elijah, who mockingly challenges the prophets of Baal to call on their god, knowing full well Baal could not answer. (1 Kings 18:20-29)
God Himself uses irony quite often—calling out to Adam and Eve, “Where are you?” when of course He already knew, and peppering Job with questions about the foundation of the world even though it’s obvious that Job was not there. (Genesis 3:8-9, Job 38:1-15)
Given the many appearances of irony in the Bible, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this is what comes to mind when I think of my One Word for 2020. After all that we’ve had to let go of this year, isn’t it ironic that the word God impressed upon my heart last fall was “full”? (Read more about that choice here.)
And yet, the truth is that this word has been a faithful companion to me throughout these last many months. I’ve thought of it often, and felt God’s presence.
Just like you, my life in 2020 has been emptied of many familiar things and events—due to Covid as well as normal transitions like our older daughter leaving for college. But although some of the changes and cancellations have been extremely disappointing, I can honestly say that my heart is full.
Perhaps that is because, in comparison, last year was much more draining for me and my family than this year has been. I don’t think I’m being overdramatic when I say that losing both my parents within five weeks—after unexpected and heartbreaking declines for each of them—puts 2019 in the running for “worst year ever.”
Lately, though, I’ve been experiencing the profound truth of something one of my GriefShare facilitators shared last fall: “As the grief softens,” she said, “the memories become warmer.”
She was right. Heat expands, and warm memories do too. As they come, they fill up the cold, dry crevices in my heart and soul. They sometimes bring tears, but also laughter and gratitude.
I don’t know what the future holds, none of us do. But the very process of learning to let tomorrow worry about itself is emptying my heart of fear and anxiety, leaving room for the peace of God that transcends understanding to fill it right up. (Philippians 4:7)
Even as I begin to get a feeling about my word for 2021, “full” is securely wrapped around me like the coziest, plushy blanket, reminding me that God is enough. No matter what the headlines say, no matter how long we have to wear masks, no matter how long it takes for things to get back to some semblance of “normal.”
He has come so that we might have life, and have it to the full. He is all we need. (John 10:10)
If 2020 has felt anything but full for you, take heart. This year will not have the final word.
I’m as sure of that as I’ve ever been sure of anything. God is faithful to show us the path of life; in His presence truly is fullness of joy. (Psalm 16:11)
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If you chose a word for 2020, I’d love for you to share in the comments about how it has guided you throughout this “unprecedented” year.
♥ Lois
If 2020 has felt anything but full for you, take heart. This year will not have the final word. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with #TellHisStory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, #HeartEncouragement, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
