When I was in middle school, I had the opportunity to play on my school’s Lady Lions Basketball Team. Now, before you start thinking I’m all athletic or something, please know that I was tall for my age and I’m 95% sure that’s why I made the team. Plus, I went to a tiny up and coming private school, so the pickings were slim for sure. I did acquire some basic basketball skills thanks to good coaches and lots of practice, but my basketball career ended when I went to high school and let me just say it was probably for the best.

However, I did play throughout my entire time in middle school and I will never forget my very last game. We made it to the league championship, which felt like a really big deal. The entire school was so excited and ready to cheer us on and we practiced our hearts out in preparation. But we were also eighth grade girls and wanted to have some fun. 

We coordinated and decorated ribbons to wear around our ponytails on game day. Puff paint was our friend. We picked the perfect song to run out to, Sirius by the Alan Parsons Project, obviously. And our team got together to make a ginormous banner out of butcher paper. The plan was to run through it as we entered the gymnasium. We painted “Lady Lions” in huge letters and each player signed it, too. We were ready. In our minds, this might as well have been a WNBA championship game.

But when game day arrived and we were ready to make our big gymnasium entrance, we realized we had failed to make one crucial decision: who would be the one to run through the banner first? In our 14 year old minds, this was a really big deal. Not because whoever went first was the star or most important - but because we had to be sure the sign would actually tear apart when we ran through. We would look ridiculous if the sign didn’t break. And as the team was discussing this very important matter, trying to decide who the “lucky” one would be, slowly but surely, I realized all eyes in the locker room had landed on me. 

Now, why they thought I was the girl for the job is beyond me. I was tall but I wasn’t strong. I guess maybe I was the most expendable player? Or perhaps they just knew I wouldn’t be able to say no. Who knows. But before I knew it, we were lining up for our big entrance and I was terrified. What if I let the team down? Embarrassed myself? The more I thought it about, the thicker that butcher paper got, quickly transforming into a sturdy cement wall. I heard the song we picked begin to play and the nerves bubbled up inside me until I thought I might just burst into a thousand pieces. I was so anxious. I absolutely did not want to go first. 

For most of my life, I’ve been a quiet observer, not a trailblazer. There is something reassuring about seeing someone else go first, something comforting about knowing there are footsteps ahead to guide me. If I’m going to step into the unknown, I’d like to be able to trust that someone else knows the way a bit better than I do. 

So it should come as no surprise that I’ve had a similar approach as we’ve made our way into 2021 over the past several days. Now, despite my tendency to observe, I am usually all about the fresh start of a new year. But this year? No big plans or celebration or resolutions. Yes, we made it through 2020, but all I can think about is how this time last year, we were completely oblivious to what the year ahead would bring. I mean, we had absolutely no clue. Really, we never do. And that uncertainty has left me feeling extra cautious, wanting to tread lightly into this new year, tiptoeing my way over that threshold rather than leaping. There’s some trepidation, wondering if the ice beneath my feet is thinner than I think, ready to crack at any moment. I’m moving slow and bracing myself, hesitant to wholeheartedly embrace whatever lies ahead. Maybe you can relate?

As I’ve been processing this hesitation while simultaneously celebrating God With Us the past few weeks, I’ve been reminded of some familiar words. Growing up, my pastor shared the same benediction nearly every week. And my family was at church nearly every week, so you better believe I still remember it. At the close of each service, before sending us out into the world, Dr. Edington would say,

Write this on your heart.

May the living Lord Jesus Christ go with you.

May he go above you to watch over you,

Behind you to encourage you,

Beside you to befriend you,

Within you to give you peace, and

Before you to show you the way

Now and forevermore. Amen.

It was a benediction that never failed to remind me of God’s presence in my life. And at different times, different parts of that benediction have stuck with me. But as we begin a new year filled with continued uncertainty, I’m clinging to that last part, the promise that God goes before me. Ahead of me. God goes first and paves the way. Gets the lay of the land. Invites me to join in on the journey and promises to be with me every step of the way.

As Moses reminded Joshua in Deuteronomy 31:8,

“It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.”

When I think of that picture of God going ahead and before, one of the first things that comes to mind is my limited hiking experience. Growing up, we would usually head to the Blue Ridge mountains for Thanksgiving and during our time there, we loved to seek out a good waterfall. One of our favorites happened to be literally on the side of the road along highway 64. On one of our trips as a kid, my dad decided he wanted to pull over and have all of us hike down to its base. On the side of the road. A very high road with a very steep drop off, I might add. The waterfalls I had hiked to up until that point were much easier to access with well-paved paths and plenty of rails to grab onto, just in case. This idea was bonkers. I was perfectly content to just view it from the side of the road like we usually did, thankyouverymuch. No need to do anything crazy.

Well, before I knew it, I was hiking down a ridiculously steep slope to the base of the waterfall. But I quickly realized it was okay - I would be okay - because I was right behind my dad. My dad went before me. I followed his lead, stepping exactly where he would step, stopping when he stopped, holding his hand when I needed some extra balance, watching as he carved a path for us. And when I couldn’t make it on my own, when I inevitably stumbled here and there, he would lift me up and place me right where I needed to be in order to keep going. 

While I’m sure the metaphor breaks down at some point, it’s a good picture of what it’s like when God goes before us. Before us into what is unknown, what might be scary, the things we can’t yet see. That particularity of God’s presence in our lives is one to hold onto, especially in the midst of so much uncertainty. We can follow God’s lead no matter what lies ahead, trusting that God will show us the way through whatever treacherous path we might find ourselves on. 

And the irony I’ve discovered in God going before us is this: When we remember that truth, we’re more willing to take leaps of faith. To take those first steps. To lead and pave the way for others. To run through those metaphorical, intimidating banners of our lives (that basketball banner broke perfectly, by the way, in case you were wondering). We’re enabled and emboldened to step into uncertainty because we know that God has gone ahead to show us the way.

So today, if you’re tiptoeing into 2021 too, remember, the living Jesus Christ goes before you. May we trust that no matter what this year holds, he is with us every step of the way.