My family experienced some difficult days through the holiday season. These were the kind of days that involved ambulances, emergency rooms, bleeds, broken bones, and even terrifying diagnoses that, thankfully, turned out to be misdiagnoses. We entered this new year thankful for the holidays but also thankful to be through them. And, to be honest, we also entered this new year a little bit frazzled and on edge.
I went for a walk in the early hours of 2025. I needed some time to process all this and to think and pray about it. The sky was dark, snow was falling, and I was following a single set of footprints that had passed through the streets a short time before me. There was one thought that was fixed in my mind and one set of questions.
The questions were these: Will my faith fail? Will my trust waver? Will my confidence give way?
I’m thankful that most of the medical issues have since been resolved. In fact, most were found to barely be problems at all, even though they certainly appeared dire in the moment. The scariest of them all was found to be a complete misunderstanding of the facts by a doctor who ought to have known better. And we understand—mistakes happen.
So, apart from some common and minor ailments, we are well and are beginning this new year in good condition. But what if some of those diagnoses had been true? Or what if we really had experienced the worst and there had been yet another empty seat around our table? Would my faith fail, or my trust waver, or my confidence give way?
Those questions led to this thought: There is a version of the prosperity gospel that we can all believe in and it goes something like this: “God, I gave my life to you, and in exchange I expect you to make my life easy. I may not need riches or opulence, perfect health or abundant wealth, but I would like ease. And if you take that ease from me, I may just assume that your feelings for me have altered or your love for me has waned. I may even regret following you. Please, just keep my life easy.”
I know better than this. I know that the call to follow God is the call to submit everything to him and be willing to live within the circumstances he deems suitable. It’s to believe that this is my Father’s world rather than mine so that the version of reality he reveals is superior to the one I might desire. It’s to bank not just eternity on him, but time as well and not just to trust him with what follows death but with what comes before it as well.
I know that the call to follow God is the call to submit everything to him and be willing to live within the circumstances he deems suitable.
But sometimes it’s hard and sometimes it’s tough to believe that his way really is best. Sometimes it’s hard to accept that he really knows what he’s doing and that from a heavenly perspective I’ll see what he did and say, “You knew best all along.”
But that morning, as I walked the snowy streets, I knew I needed to. I needed to begin this year with faith, with the kind of faith that doesn’t just bank on God for salvation but banks on him for everything that comes along the path to heaven—the kind of faith that isn’t just confident in his plan of salvation but his plan for my life and the lives of those I love. I knew I needed to express my willingness to submit to his will even if it leads to pain or takes the ones I love. I knew I needed to reaffirm my confidence that Romans 8:28 is true and that God actually is working all things in such a way that they will ultimately prove to have been for my good and his glory. I knew I needed to simply trust.
And by his grace he allowed me to do that. He allowed me to pray a prayer that Christopher Newman Hall wrote long ago, one that admits the uncertainty we feel but also professes deep confidence in the Lord and trust in his way. This prayer has begun my year and I pray it shapes my year. Perhaps it can prove meaningful to you as well.
Thy way, O Lord! Thy way—not mine!
Although, opprest,
For smoother, sunnier paths I pine,
Thy way is best.Though crossing thirsty deserts drear,
Or mountain’s crest;
Although I faint with toil and fear,
Thy way is best.Though not one open door befriend
The passing guest;
Though night its darkest terror lend,
Thy way is best.So seeming wild without a plan,
Now east, now west,
Joys born and slain, hopes blighted, can
Thy way be best?My soul by grief seems not to be
More pure and blest;
Alas! I cannot, cannot see
Thy way is best.I cannot see—on every hand
By anguish prest,
In vain I try to understand
Thy way is best.But I believe—Thy life and death,
Thy love attest,
And every promise clearly saith—
“Thy way is best.”I cannot see—but I believe;
If heavenly rest
Is reached by roads where most I grieve,
Thy way is best.
