25 and a Year of Reflections

Two weeks ago I turned 25, and it was an amazing day. I worked in the morning at the place I love surrounded by people I love. I spent some much needed quality time with one of my best friends in the afternoon. And I was surprised at dinner by more of the people I love most, all orchestrated by my dear friend who lives 6 hours away and had to face-time in. I was overwhelmed yesterday by the people in my life, most of whom weren’t there a year ago.

I find that birthdays bring about more reflection for me than even New Years does. That night after a full and joyful day, I thought about all that the Lord has done this year. In the last year, I started my dream job, and in so doing, got a whole new family. Relationships were broken, and then mended again. Old wounds were finally completely healed. Bitterness was uprooted. And I have grown so much. Looking back, I have to admit that 24 was a great year, and I have great expectations for 25.

But 25 is different. There’s a sense of change in the number 25. 24 is still young enough to live a little recklessly and make a few mistakes. 25 carries pressure of “true adulthood” and the expectation of finally getting your life together. Yes, you can finally rent that car, but along with the rental fee is the price of laying aside your childish dreams. It seems like an unfair trade to me.

But you know, I haven’t felt the weight of that myself. I’ve seen the weight of it in some well-meaning comments about entering my mid-twenties. And while those weighted suggestions would have consumed my thoughts a year ago, today they roll off my shoulders without a glance. Maybe it’s naiveté, but I don’t think so. I think the Lord has just taught me how to trust him with expectations. If I had turned 25 a year ago, I would have been a wreck in the face of all my unaccomplished plans. 25 and just starting my career? 25 and living with my parents again? 25 and still single? I think it might have killed me.

But like I said, The Lord.

In the last year, he has slowly and often painstakingly crushed my expectations. Each disappointment was another cut into my stony heart. Chip after chip along the same vein, creating a groove into which he whispered “Jesus is better” every time, until finally it was engraved there forever, more permanent than my new tattoo. Jesus is better. In the joy of my job he has said “Yes, this is good, but Jesus is better.” In the falling through of 3 separate houses, he comforted me “I know this is not what you wanted, but Jesus is better.” In the wake of my continued singleness, he reminded “A husband is a good gift, but Jesus is better.”

I think that was the big one.

Of course I want to get married. Of course I want a companion to live my life with. Of course I have ached for it and will ache again. But sitting in that sanctuary early this year, it felt like the Lord was sitting directly across from me. Father and daughter at the table when he said, “If I give you a husband or if I do not, know that I am not just enough. I am more than. I am better.” And I believed him.

The result is a joy and assurance like I’ve never had before. “Be still.” He told me at the beginning of the year. “Be still and listen. Be still...I need to tell you something.” I think this was it.

The sound revelation that Jesus is better has done a marvelous thing for me. It has made me truly free. Free from other people’s opinions. Free from my own expectations and disappointments. Free from so much of the weight that drags us down in this world.

So bring it on, 25. I’m not afraid of you. I reserve the right to live passionately, to be a little reckless, and to make a few mistakes, as long as I learn from them. I reserve the right to be free from cultural responsibility so that I may submit to godly responsibility. And mostly I reserve the right to keep my hope where it is, and not in expectations I, or anyone else, put on me. Bring it on, 25. It’s going to be a good one.