Looking Back Without Living There
As the year comes to a close, there is a natural pull to look backward.
Some memories come easily. Others arrive uninvited. There are moments we’re thankful for, moments we wish we could relive, and moments we’d rather forget entirely. The turning of the calendar has a way of stirring all of it to the surface.
Scripture never tells us that remembering is wrong. In fact, we are often called to remember what God has done. In Psalms 77:11-12, it is written:
“I will remember the works of the LORD: Surely I will remember thy wonders of old. I will Meditate also of all thy work, And talk of thy doings.”
This was written by Asaph during a time of distress. All throughout this Psalm Asaph describes various troubles. He remembers them. The remembering is intentional. He is using these troubles as a way to share what God has done even in overwhelming circumstances. We could learn from this.
The danger comes when remembering turns into dwelling. God invites us to look back, but He does not invite us to live there.
For some, this past year was marked by joy. For others, it carried loss, disappointment, or unanswered prayers. Some crossed finish lines they once thought impossible. Others are still waiting, still asking, still hoping. A new year does not erase those realities, and pretending otherwise helps no one.
But here is what Scripture shows us clearly: God’s faithfulness is not dependent on the ease of the season.
Jeremiah wrote words of hope in the middle of devastation, not after it had passed. In Lamentations 3:22-23 he writes:
“It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning.”
That promise was not written from a place of comfort. It was written from the ashes of Jerusalem after being destroyed. And yet it remains true.
Looking back can teach us. It can humble us. It can remind us how far God has brought us, even when the road felt long. But when we live in the past, we rob ourselves of what God is doing now.
Some people live chained to regret, replaying mistakes and wishing they could undo what cannot be undone. Others live anchored to good seasons, longing for things to return to the way they were. Both can quietly keep us from trusting God in the present.
God does not ask us to forget the past. He asks us to trust Him with it.
The same God who was present in your hardest moments is the God who walks with you into whatever comes next. He has not changed. His character has not shifted with the calendar. His promises did not expire at midnight.
As this year closes, it may be helpful to ask a simple question: What am I carrying that God never asked me to hold?
Some things were meant to shape us, not define us. Some moments were meant to teach us, not trap us. And some chapters, while meaningful, were never meant to be the whole story.
Tonight, you don’t have to solve the year ahead. You don’t have to have clarity, resolutions, or a perfectly worded prayer. You are simply invited to place the past where it belongs: In God’s hands. Step forward trusting that His mercy is already waiting for you in the morning.
You can look back without living there. And you can move forward knowing that God is still faithful, still present, and still working. Even now. Always.
