It’s only the beginning of February, and I already have 2020 hindsight. At some point between stressing out over Christmas gifts and today, I blinked and the first month of 2020 has blown by with the speed of a toddler with a double-shot Frappuccino.
Like many of you, I suppose, I bid farewell to 2019 and embraced the arrival of 2020 with hopes for a new, more organized me. Such was my New Year’s resolution: Spend twenty minutes of each day in 2020 doing something to bring order to the chaos that permeates my home. I visualized marking off each day on the calendar with a big fat check mark for having accomplished twenty in 2020.
Sounded simple enough at the time. At the time, I was probably highly caffeinated.
It’s only 20 minutes, right?
Seriously, though, who doesn’t have twenty minutes to spare on any given day? In twenty minutes, I can blow through all five lives in Candy Crush. In twenty minutes, I can watch an episode of Friends on Netflix and then mindlessly roll into the next episode. And the next. Until I have watched an entire season in a single evening. In twenty minutes, I can take a selfie, decide it’s not good enough, apply a filter and reposition myself repeatedly, until I get the perfect pose that appears casual and oh-so-effortless.
I think it’s safe to say that I have twenty minutes to spare.
No, twenty minutes isn’t the part I’ve been struggling with. It’s the everyday part. Every.Day. That part is pointing at me and laughing like a school-yard bully.
Drawing a Blank
Friends, when I set New Year’s resolutions, I have the intentions of a teenager eager to do well at her first job, but I have the energy of an elderly sloth. (Off the record, is that the defining characteristic of becoming middle-aged? When you’re not yet struggling to remember why you walked into a room, but you are able to tweeze a gray hair from your eyebrows and a black hair from your double chin in the same makeup session? Asking for a friend. Apparently, I’m asking for a middle-aged friend.)
Anyway, back to my New Year’s resolution. How successful do you think I’ve been with my twenty in 2020? Can you guess how many days on my calendar are currently sporting a big fat checkmark? Four. Four days. The rest of the days are glaringly blank, and my blank calendar has subtly evolved into a monument to my failure.
That escalated quickly, right? That’s my tendency. To take something seemingly simple and blow it completely out of proportion, then beat myself up when I can’t meet the expectations I set for myself until I finally erect a monument to my failure to remind myself of what I didn’t accomplish. (Deep breath, that was a long sentence.)
I don’t think I’m alone in this.
What Are You Looking At?
Do you have monuments of failure in your life? Maybe that college degree you have wanted for so long, and you may have even tried hard to make it a reality, but then life… happened. Maybe it’s a list of one-year, five-year, or ten-year goals that is now nothing more than a grease stained napkin that was tossed in the trash because life… somehow got in your way.
What is it for you? Is it the thirty extra pounds you’ve tried to lose? A mountain of credit card debt that grows instead of shrinks? Is it an addiction that latched on like a leech two decades ago and it’s still sucking you dry? The divorce papers that violently shredded the dreams of the once young girl who walked down the aisle with nothing but love in her heart and blinders over her eyes? A devastating cancer diagnosis? A wayward son who no longer takes your calls?
What is your monument of failure? Times in your life you wished you’d had 2020 hindsight?
Monuments of Failure
If anyone had a reason to erect a monument of failure, it was the Israelites. Time and time again, the recordings of the Old Testament narrate the moments that God’s chosen nation failed in big ways. In shake-your-head-what-were-they-thinking ways. As a monument to their failure, it wasn’t unusual for the Israelites to take it one step farther and rename the location to forever remember the error of their ways.
For example, sometime after the miracle at the Red Sea, the Israelites find themselves camped at Rephidim and there is no water for the people to drink. As was their tendency, they turn into a sniveling, whiny mess that sorely tests God’s patience. After God provides water from a rock, Moses names the place Massah (test) and Meribah (contention). A monument to their failure to trust in the provisions of God.
The Lord is My Flag
Almost immediately, though, we see the mighty hand of God defend these sniveling, whiny Israelites against the Amalekites at Rephidim. Israel is victorious against their enemy, and God instructs Moses to create a monument to His faithfulness:
Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Write about this battle. Write these things in a book so that people will remember what happened here. And be sure to tell Joshua that I will completely destroy the Amalekites from the earth.’ Then Moses built an altar and named it, ‘The Lord is My Flag.’ Moses said, ‘I lifted my hands toward the Lord’s throne. So the Lord fought against the Amalekites, as he always has.
Exodus 17:14-16 ERV
Need another example? Picture this: Moses and Joshua have ascended Mount Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments directly from God, having left Aaron and Hur in charge of the people down below. Exodus 24:17 says the Israelites literally see the glory and brilliance of God like a fire consuming the mountaintop. How cool is that, right? Moses remains on the mount for forty days, and the Israelites come to the erroneous conclusion that he’s not coming back. Something must have happened to Moses on that mount. So, what’s a stubborn, unfaithful nation to do without a leader? They make their own by smelting their jewelry into a golden calf and dancing naked in worship around their creation. This idol would – without a doubt – become a monument to their monumental failure. They definitely could have used a little 2020 hindsight.
Sanctuary
And God? Well, in the interests of full disclosure, God considers doing some smelting of His own, and the Israelites almost finish their exodus as a pile of rebellious ash. But after that? After that, God renews His covenant with His people.
Then God said, ‘Behold, I am going to make a covenant. Before all your people I will do wondrous works (miracles) such as have not been created or produced in all the earth nor among any of the nations and all the people among whom you live shall see the working of the Lord, for it is a fearful and awesome thing that I am going to do with you.’
Exodus 34:10 AMP
Are you noticing a trend? The Israelites, who inarguably witnessed the mighty salvation of God over and over, also stumbled and lost their way and failed their God over and over again. But – please don’t miss this part – never once do we hear God tell the Israelites to construct an altar to their stupidity. Not a single time does God memorialize their disappointing and destructive behavior with boulders to remind them of their shortcomings. The Israelites might have given the area a new name based on their shame; but, the God of the Israelites gave them a sanctuary built on His faithfulness.
No shame. Sanctuary.
Using the Rear View Mirror
A friend of mine tells a story of riding in a taxi in Rome. When the cabdriver changed lanes and came uncomfortably close to the car he’d just cut in front of, my friend jokingly asked if he ever used his rear-view mirror. The cabdriver flicked his wrist in annoyance. “What is behind me, is not important.” (Side note: If you didn’t read that with a thick Italian accent, you just missed half the fun of that statement. Let’s try it again, shall we? “Vhat eees behind me, es not eemportant.” Much better. Molto meglio.)
What’s the point of this awkward Italian segue? If what lies behind you are the littered remnants of your dreams, a dreary past highlighted by your failures, and monuments you erected to remember your shortcomings, then our philosophical cabdriver is absolutely right. Flick your wrist and declare: “Vhat ees behind me, es not eemportant!”
Altars of His Faithfulness
What is important is God’s unrelenting forgiveness, mercy and grace. What should be remembered are the moments God has moved in mighty ways that can’t otherwise be explained. What’s certain is the victory of God in turning your monuments of failure into Altars of His Faithfulness. Not because of what you’ve done or how many New Year’s resolutions you’ve kept. Victory is your birthright as His child and chosen one! Perfect 2020 hindsight.
‘The time is coming,’ declares the Lord, ‘when I will make a new covenant with the people of Israel and Judah. It won’t be like the covenant I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land of Egypt. They broke that covenant with me even though I was their husband,’ declares the Lord. ‘No, this is the covenant that I will make with the people of Israel after that time,’ declares the Lord. ‘I will put my instructions within them and engrave them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. They will no longer need to teach each other to say, ‘Know the Lord!’ because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest,’ declares the Lord; ‘for I will forgive their wrongdoing and never again remember their sins.’
– Jeremiah 31:31-34 CEB