New Year Benediction

Last year, another writer challenged me to write a benediction for myself in January. I had already finished color coding my goals and filling out my planner, so it felt like a shift to speak kindness and grace over myself instead of expectation and striving. A good shift.

Benediction – the utterance or bestowing of a blessing

In Latin bene means “well” and dicere means “say”.

Here is what I wrote last year:

May this be the year in which you store up the treasure of who God is and who He says you are in your heart. May you find your words again, buried deep beneath truth and vulnerability, wrapped tightly around healing. This year, be blessed in stillness, be blessed in ordinary days, quiet moments, and the slow way wisdom comes to light only from sitting at the Throne of Grace. Find joy in being patient with yourself and with God. May the only expectation you have of yourself be that you surrender to Jesus.

As soon as I wrote it, I could sense a realignment of my expectations and goals. Now don’t go thinking I threw my goals out the window. The benediction did a work in my heart and perspective, it didn’t change my personality or goal orientated way of being. I kept my goals and made progress on them throughout the year. Some were completed, some were let go, and some rolled over to my goal planner this year.

Throughout the months, it was the benediction I kept coming back to. Before I wrote it, I asked the Holy Spirit what He wanted to say to me. I tried to capture as much as I could. As I checked items off my to-do list and moved forward with my goals, I did so with a bit more grace for myself. My expectations had softer edges. I was able to laugh at myself and cross things off that weren’t even done when I realized they didn’t need to be done. (That last sentence still surprises me, but it’s true.)

At the end of the year, as I read the benediction again, I was amazed at how God met me in those words. I know for sure now they were from him, because I can say that last year was the year that I stored up the treasure of who God is and who He says I am in my heart. I did find my words again, and I am so grateful for His grace in using the word find and not share in that sentence. I remembered how to be still and enjoy ordinary days and quiet moments. I was blessed by the slow way wisdom comes to light only from sitting at the Throne of Grace.  I found joy in being patient with myself and with God. And truly, the only expectation I had of myself last year was that I surrender everything to Jesus.

Benedictions are most often given at the end of a religious service as congregants walk out of the sanctuary and back into everyday life, but there is no rule saying they can’t also be given at the end of the year as we transition from the sacredness of the Christmas season back into our routines and ordinary days. I have found it a gentle way to turn the calendar pages and a kinder way to start my mornings when I read it back over myself.

So this year, I decided to make writing a benediction an annual thing. I spent the last few weeks setting goals and will spend next week filling out my planner. (I accidentally ordered it to arrive TWO WEEKS later than I thought, and if you know me personally, you know that God must be doing a mighty work for me to not be panicking at STARTING MY YEAR WITHOUT MY PLANNER. I guess you could ask Brett how I’m really doing.)

As I was writing out my goals and breaking them down into actionable steps, I was having a conversation with the Holy Spirit. What do YOU want to say to me this year?

My benediction for 2020 is below. I would like to invite you to try this practice for yourself and if you’re willing to share, I’d love to hear what you come up with.

May you wake up each day remembering that God promises to finish the good work He started in you. After seasons of pruning and stillness, may you embrace the branches heavy with buds waiting to blossom and recognize the One who nourished them into place. May you do the work of helping them unfold with patience and joyful expectation. In the unfolding, may God increase and you decrease. Let any new bloom point directly back to him. May the only expectation you have of yourself be that you would point your face to Jesus every morning and ask the Holy Spirit for direction on which buds to water and coax toward blooming. May you take the lessons learned from a season of pruning and stillness into this season of new growth. May you remember that this, too, will be a season and embrace it while it’s here. And next time pruning comes, may you meet it with a gentler step and less resistance, having seen the good clipping away can do. Walk out of stillness slowly, gently, but with confidence that it is time.