By Grace Davis, Jan 5, 2025
There is a deep trust that follows a complete unknown—a trust that shouldn’t be misplaced but instead placed in the hands of the Father. There is a holy and sanctified peace that follows this vulnerable act of trust and true surrender.
This is where I find myself.
A place, simply put, of complete and total unknowns. My heart feels empty, my soul yearns for answers, and as for my brain—well, scattered. As time passes, I have a strong feeling that these symptoms of heartache will only worsen, especially as friends move forward with their lives—celebrating engagements, marriages, and new beginnings. I’ve got to stop listening to “Older” by Lizzie McAlpine.
As the weight of my sins bears even heavier upon me, the memories of childhood seem to fade away, lightly staining a fragment of who I am anymore. But where is that holy peace from the Creator who has made me whole? What has stolen this peace? I want to blame it on anxiety, but I think that would be too easy.
My guess is it could be the very gadgets we were promised would provide an endless connection—Those rectangular screens glued to our hands, which we believed would make us feel whole, connected, and lacking nothing—just left us dry. We all fell for it, or at least I have.
But that’s just my first theory.
I’ve seen a tremendous amount of things this year—from progressive, free-thinking Europeans to Southern, egotistical, laboring Americans. I’ve learned that the believers in London are quick to evangelize, while Western culture sits comfortably in its ways, never venturing far from the driveway. Yet, while every culture differs, the Gospel remains the same.
The Gospel is unity. And what’s so beautiful about the Gospel is that it translates to good news in Hebrew. But it doesn’t stop there. This good news of great joy offers peace to all. I’ve seen it bring peace to the small Church on the corner of Mayfair and the large, non-denominational Church bursting from the seams in South Carolina. Isaiah 52:7 says it best: “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’”
If you were not already aware, at the top of Mt. Zion sits the Holy City of Jerusalem. This is the mountain where Jesus appeared and gave our empty souls worth.
I thought we should look back at Exodus 19:10-25 for a fun little history lesson. I won’t bore you with all of the verses, but essentially, the Israelites were commanded by Moses to stay away from Mt. Sinai. God basically said, If you touch the mountain, you will die.
How kind.
The Scriptures tell us that even Moses himself was terrified. It makes me reflect on the immense trust he must have had in Yahweh.
Fortunately for us, we have not come to this mountain. Hebrews 12:18-19 says: “You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous, made perfect, to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.”
Terror marked Mt. Sinai. It was desolate and dry and confusing and dark and based entirely on works.
But we have come to Mt. Zion, where Jesus, not Moses, is our mediator. Here, thousands upon thousands of angels rejoice, and a new covenant has been established between God and His people. We have come to the City of the Living God.
Though I feel lost, a bit lonely, and already lamenting a season of life that is coming to a close, I am reminded of the steadfast promises of the Lord. He is creative, cunning, and, most of all, compassionate and kind. With age comes worry, but how could I forget that I trust in the Firstborn of all creation?
I cling to hope.
Nostalgia seems to eat me alive these days, but I pray that the Lord would replace it with this thought I jotted down a few days ago:
Indeed! We should carry hope in our pockets, knowing that one day the Lord will plant Himself in this earthly soil and make it all new. We wonder why satisfaction can never be found on this side of eternity—because our souls long for adoption day, when we will get to live face-to-face with our Father forever.
My longing for what once was is only a sweet reminder of the love I've received here on earth. It’s evidence of God’s goodness and a nudge from Him saying, “There’s more to look forward to. Carry hope in your pocket.”
Friends, let us dwell on Mt. Zion.
Let us trust in the God of Moses and fix our gaze on the Hope of the Ages.
