The philosopher George Santayana, in Reason in Common Sense, said that "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." It takes a certain kind of foresight to see that any forward progress requires knowledge gained from turning back.

For my sixteenth birthday (wow, that seems like such a long time ago...), the mother of a friend of mine gave me a beautiful little fabric-bound journal. It was almost too pretty to write in, but I determined that year that I would start journaling. Historically speaking, it was a venture doomed to fail. I had tried on and off to journal, but between the business of life and the annoyance of little siblings finding my diaries and reading them, I had more or less given up. But my best friend had been a faithful diary-writer growing up, even bringing her spiral bound notebooks to sleepovers to chronicle our bleary-eyed 2 a.m shenanigans, so I figured if she could do it, I could, and it was worth another shot. If anything, I felt like turning sixteen was a mile marker, and I wanted to try and document the subsequent coming-of-age years. 

I have since filled up 5 or 6 notebooks and journals with the events, thoughts, joys, trials, spiritual revelations, and heartbreaks that have accompanied me these past seven years. And every year or so I try to go back through some of my old journals to see how I've changed, or not changed, since that time. A couple of days ago, I read through my most recent journal, even though I still have a quarter of the pages to fill. Since I just finished my spring semester at school, and I've had a significant amount of life-changing events in the past year, I felt like it was time to go back and reflect some. I've spent a lot of time these past six months just pushing forward, making it through the demands of life, looking forward. It was definitely time to dwell a bit on the past.

My current journal spans over two years, and while many of the actual events recorded are hazy memories, the very first entry I distinctly remember writing. I was sitting on the bed in my grandmother's guest room on a Sunday evening, after wrestling with convictions, concerns, worries, and uncertainties about my future. And that was the point, on January 17th, 2012, when my relationship with the Lord became markedly different as I caught a glimpse of His glory--the Image I am supposed to reflect in my daily walk--and realized that I will never achieve even the most minute fraction of that holiness. 

And instead of that casting me into a dark hole of depression and hopelessness, it was that knowledge, the fact that I cannot and will not ever be good enough for God, that gave me hope and brought me joy.  "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Rom. 3:23). Because it was in my current state that Christ sought me, captured my heart, and desired me for Himself. It was in my brokenness and pride and filthiness that He shed His blood for me. There was nothing good about me, nothing worthy of praise or honor, nothing in me worthy of anything but death. But there was God. God chose me. He wanted me. 

How amazing is that? 

Reading my journal entries from early 2010--my thoughts at that time, old sermon notes, scriptures that spoke to me--I found comfort and solace in the past. I took courage in His promise to never leave or forsake me, and saw a pattern of His faithfulness in my life, even in my unfaithfulness. I was reminded afresh of the glory of my calling, and the beauty of His grace. 

I was also reminded that the Christian's walk is filled with ups and down, highs and lows. It's like when you're biking. At least where I live. After coasting down a long hill, the wind whistling by as you soar to a gentle coast at the bottom, you stop and take in a deep breath, adrenaline high. And then, you realize...you've gotta climb back up. The easy way down, no matter how long or fast, is most certainly followed by an uphill climb. But think about it. Where will you grow more? Coasting downhill, your feet stilled on the pedals because your legs can't pump as fast as the wheels are spinning? Or cranking your gears uphill, your entire body thrown into trying to move uphill? 

I feel refreshed now. Encouraged. Inspired. 

And my heart echoes a prayer I wrote down at the end of January:

Lord, You've brought me through another another month of my life, despite the migraines, bumps and bruises, and the times that I've sinned against You and not been a reflection of your glory. Thank you fo ryour grace and forgiveness, Your mercy and Your love. May this upcoming month be a season of growth, both spiritual and emotional, and may I leave...with an even greater love and knowledge of you. In Jesus' name, Amen.