A frequent word in my vocabulary in 2020 has been “overwhelmed.” Many of you might relate to me. The dictionary defines it as “bury or drown beneath a huge mass, inundate, give too much of a thing to someone.” It seems like many if not all of us have had our share of “too much” the past year.
For me, it has been a year of overwhelming responsibilities, tests, and trials. A year beset with potential fear-producing situations spawning in all of us an abundance of caution. What once was ordinary and routine as grocery shopping has turned into a ritual of donning masks and slipping on of gloves, ensuring a good supply of hand sanitizers both in the car and our home. The excitement of seeing and greeting a friend amounted to fist and elbow bumps instead of hugs and a peck on the cheek; one where in lieu of watching my students play on the blacktop, I viewed their activity from across my computer screen. A year of jumping in the shower twice or three times a day to wash off any of the invisible virus I might have accidentally come into acquaintance with as I ventured out into the scary world outside my doorstep.
In my entire six decades, none can I recall any other year of many “firsts.” One such first, giving us something to laugh about, has been that of transacting business at a bank with a mask and glasses on—a formerly written “no-no” on the doors of a bank’s establishment. The bulky collection of recipes in my “Instant Pot” or “Dessert” file attests to the number of meals and delicacies I have tried my hand on for the very first time. This to the delight of my neighbors I shared them with. A first for me of mailing my ballot instead of going to the polling place; of worshipping online instead of being shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow believers. The first of not seeing the upward arching of people’s lips producing uplifting smiles. Another unexpected first of a cataract surgery just months after I retired from 31 years of teaching. Truly, 2020 has been a year to remember.
Though I associated myself with the word “overwhelmed,” God’s word for me before the year started–“His Presence.” He knew beforehand. He foresaw I needed a word(s) that would anchor me as the billowing waves and the howling winds would rock 2020. As those overwhelming moments touched me, God drew me into His arms and words. Frequently, He pointed me to Matthew 11:29-30, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” He knew that as tensions and frustrations flared up, I needed to learn from Jesus, who is gentle and humble.
As I cried out to Him during those moments of utter overload, I perused through Scriptures of Jesus’s gentleness and humility I could emulate.
Commencing from His very birth to death, it is there. Every written word in the mere thirty-three years of His existence in human form breathed humility and gentleness. The Son of God’s first bed made not of down feathers but of hay in a manger and not a hospital room. With sandaled feet in place of fancy shoes, He walked dusty roads. He summoned children to come to Him preferring their company to those of the elite. He spent time with an adulterous woman, offering her living water instead of the water-filled cup she had drawn from the well for Him. Spending time with the not-so-esteemed crooked tax collector and ordinary men made the “holy” men raise eyebrows. Without a plaque hanging on the wall of His family’s home guaranteeing years of medical schooling, He healed lepers, blind men, and even revived people from death. His gentleness apparent as He reached His hand out to touch those whom others shunned. He washed the feet of those who followed Him. Though being the King of kings, He rode not in a fancy, bullet-proofed armored car, rather walked to His cross waiting in Calvary to sacrifice His life for men; His crown made not of gold and jewels but of thorns; His garments not of fine threads but one torn apart and a seamless tunic the soldiers cast lots on. He came to serve.
Truly, 2020 was a tough year; an overwhelming year of unexpected twists and turns. But it also showed me God was with me every step of the way. God pointed me to trustworthy friends going through similar things I was. Unforeseen offers to help came my way. Petitions lifted on my behalf. He beheld my attention to the beauty of His creations in the flowers I arranged, the sunlit skies or fleeting clouds above my head; the changing colors of Autumn as I walked our dog. Every podcast or sermon I listened to aptly addressed what I needed for correction, encouragement, and hope. He brought joy to my heart in every experimental dish I whipped.
True to His name, Immanuel—God with us, He overwhelmingly showed up to make His presence known to me.
In my quest to be more like Him, I realized that though I longed the gentle, humble likeness of Christ, on my own I fail. He showed me my utter dependency on Him. That when loving or serving others, I could not do it alone. I needed God’s presence and help. He lovingly taught me that love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control came not from me but from the Spirit. These are His fruits (Galatians 5:22-23) that can manifest in me when I yield my ways to Him.
Our hardships can inundate us, but God’s presence and goodness can exceedingly be more immense. Are we going to let our problems overwhelm us, or are we going to let God’s enormous presence cover us as we face our difficulties?
My hope is that as we embark on Twenty-twenty-one, we remember the lessons learned in 2020. May we continue to hold fast to Him who is our only source of hope. Our circumstances might try to choke and overwhelm us, but may we be more overwhelmed in awe and blessed as we walk in the light of His abiding, loving presence.
“Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you, who walk in the light of your presence, O Lord. They rejoice in your name all day long; they exult in your righteousness.”
—Psalm 89:15–16