Recently, I tried for a moment to imagine whom 2020 would be if it were a person. I couldn’t settle on one, though. Consciously avoiding being too political, I figured 2020 might be a mix of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tom Buchanan, Shakespeare’s Iago, the Thomas brothers’ Predator, and probably the Zodiac Killer. You know, insecurity and power, cruel deception, and violent destruction for sport and something to prove. Feel free to imagine your own 2020 monster. 

Whoever or whatever you imagine, I’ve found the story is the same among friends and family: 2020 has brought pain, difficulty, loneliness, and various degrees of suffering. Several people have shared with me their hesitations to answer the ringing phone, surely a harbinger of more bad news. However, even though it has felt so at times, 2020 as a devouring monster is not the full story. Looking closely, we’ve also enjoyed some good, even if seemingly briefly. 

The Bible says that Jesus was tempted in every way as we are and can therefore sympathize with our weaknesses (Heb. 4:15). This means Christ understands exactly how tough this year has been for you. He knows what it means to feel loss and sadness. He knows what it means to have high hopes dashed. He knows what it means to feel anxious. (If you think He didn’t experience deep anxiety when sweating drops of blood the night before His crucifixion, I probably can’t change your mind). The second person of the Trinity has entered into human suffering. He knows what to do with these feelings and experiences. He knows that the best thing for us is to press on in faith, seeking strength from the God who has shown and will again show mercy.

The Lord has given us an example in Himself but also provided for our perseverance through the lives of others. I count myself blessed to be surrounded by men and women who just keep going, one day at a time. Think of such people in your life, be glad for their example, and follow it. Weightier in ways than my buddies and family members is the example of the Apostle Paul. He suffered much (cf., 2 Cor. 11:24-28) and made it all the way to the end. In his letter to the Philippians we find a glimpse into what kept him going. 

In chapter 2 of Philippians, Paul tells the church at Philippi he is going to send to them Epaphroditus—whom he calls a brother, fellow worker, and fellow soldier. He says Epaphroditus is eager to see the Philippians because Epaphroditus knows they were troubled at word of his severe illness that almost resulted in death. (He sounds selflessly considerate). But Paul mentions in verse 27 only one reason why Epaphroditus did not die: God’s mercy. “But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow.”

2020 has been outstandingly marked by sorrow and death, but Paul is not here saying that the presence of sorrow and death mean no mercy has been given. (I’m now in the deep end without my floaties). In even these instances God in His mercy keeps back more sorrow. Even now, God is giving mercy. 

Plenty of loved ones are feeling the pain of loss and manifold difficulties, past and present. It hurts deeply. But we are alive: mercy for us and those around us. And those who’ve died this year like Epaphroditus with much faith (he did eventually die), and even those with the tiniest little bit of faith know now better than you and I that God is merciful and that to die is gain (cf., Phil. 1:21). (Also helpful to note is that Paul here attributes to God, not chance, the power of life and death).

But if you’re like me, you want the no-death mercy. The no sickness mercy. No sadness mercy. Miraculous unending mercy. We want the mercy that does not heap sorrow upon sorrow…ever, at all. We want the mercy that keeps us from ever feeling like Lloyd Christmas when he laments that along with having no food and no job, his and Harry’s “pets’ heads are fallin’ off!” God knows; He cares; and He does show mercy—in fact, much mercy…even the miraculous mercy for which we yearn.

Looking away from the hurt and difficulty for a moment, and looking for instances of mercy, you’ll find them. Look to Christ’s cross and see mercy for you most clearly. Feel your pain, but also feel the hug of a family member of friend. Cry hard over the loss of a loved one, but remember the good times and invest more than ever in the lives of those mourning with you and in the lives of those too young to know you’re sad or just old enough to begin navigating deep emotions—let their childish naiveté make you glad. Be angry at the global vanity fair and circus but see God’s mercy in your own freedom, mobility, health, and intelligence. See God’s mercy in the beauty of the sky, the vastness of the ocean, or in the taste of Bluebell Cookies and Cream. See His mercy in the people around you.

Sometimes we do have sorrow upon sorrow, but not always. God is merciful. Indeed, “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5b). 2020 will end. For those of us in Christ, awaiting is a day’s light that will never fade. Eternal mercy, friends.