I’ve heard quite a bit of rumbling on the Internet these days, an eagerness to leave 2020 in the dust. I get it. So much has happened in the last twelve months that it seems to easier to move on than to sort through the mess. The idea of packing 2020 up in a cardboard box and shoving it into a forgotten corner of the attic seems preferable to looking it full in the face.

The year has been anything but lovely. But ignoring it won’t make it go away. Pain that gathers dust only gets messier, and unattended wounds only fester. Plus, the reality is that the common ache we have felt for months will not magically disappear with the flip of the calendar year. So what do we do with this mess?

In order to move forward with hope and healing, we must unpack the box.

We need space to pause and to reflect on all that has transpired. All. Of. It. Because despite all that 2020 was not, the year was revealing—thoughts, attitudes, actions, needs, and desires were on full display. And for the sake of our corporate soul, we need to pay attention.

So let me offer you an invitation to reflect.

Over the next couple weeks, think about the last year: all its unmet expectations, joys, challenges, questions, losses, failures, and triumphs. And as 2020 replays in your mind, ask yourself these two simple questions:

• What do I need to take with me?

• What do I need to leave behind?

What do I need to take with me?

Hard times are often accompanied by important lessons, shifts in who we are, how we view the world, and how we relate to God and to each other. However, if we put all of 2020 behind us but fail to bring these things forward, we miss the deep soul work along the way. We fail to heed the Divine whispers only heard dark places and sidestep a richer, fuller connection with God himself.

While many of our experiences have been shared (no one has escaped loss in this season), they’ve impacted our souls in different ways—and that’s where we need to pay attention.

Perhaps quarantine life stopped you long enough to realize that your frantic pace had been running your ragged. You discovered an ache for a slower, simpler life. Or maybe the killing of George Floyd or the threat of riots and protests in your own city revealed attitudes and ideas you did not know you held, and now you cannot un-know what you know. As face masks, elections, and fear threatened to divide us down to our nuclear families, perhaps what you discovered was a need for relationships that transcend the differences. Maybe you just realized that, sometimes, you really need a nap.

Whatever this year has revealed in you and to you, ask: What do you need to carry into the year ahead?

What do I need to leave behind?

Our quick answer to this question might be the pain and the grief itself. Our collective weariness has been overwhelming at best. Or maybe we’re done with the election or the election results or anyone talking about the election. (Did I mention there was an election here in the US?)

But take a moment to consider: What if our circumstances don’t actually change in 2021—at least, not quickly? If a vaccine doesn’t come quickly or social unrest continues, what do we need to abandon in the new year?

More than likely, our answers are not situational but spiritual. What we need to stash in the attic of the past are the attitudes, ideas, and beliefs that fail to draw us into deeper connection with God and with each other, that separate us from the joy and peace that transcends the chaos. Perhaps that means trading in our opinions for an ear that listens, or abandoning activities that don’t foster a life of presence. Maybe that means leaving behind shame and the weight of expectation. Only you know.

But the good news is that even if January 1 does not bring dramatic change to our circumstances, we get to choose what we put in the box and what we continue to carry. And both will have profound influences on the year ahead.

feature image by Thomas Martinsen via unsplash