New book, same story.

On the left is a journal I started the day before I asked my future father-in-law for his blessing to marry Sarah. It's been with me every night I was single, two trips to Europe, cross-country flights, camping trips… it's chock full of pictures, love notes, the frustrated scrawl of dark nights of the soul and delighted depictions of sunrises. In it I planned our wedding, prayed for my future children, celebrated every anniversary and birthday. It's scarred, tear-stained, rained on, prayed over, scratched out…

It's probably the most precious physical object I own… and it's full. It is time to pass the baton to the next journal.

The timing could not be better.

Each time I finish a journal I leave the last few pages blank. I then read through the whole thing noting down blessings and important moments in those spare pages. I revisit old prayer requests that have been answered, dreams that were realized, goals met. I will sing of God's goodness in marriage. I will rejoice again at the birth of my children. I will again weep over old sins and conflicts. I will see God's sovereign hand over the past five years compressed into a few pages of my handwritten thoughts.

Journaling isn't just therapeutic. It's an opportunity to glance behind the tapestry of history to see what God has been weaving.

When I started the journal, I stood at a precipice: all I hoped for and held dear was in the hands of a loving and almighty God. In the years since, I have found him to be faithful. And I wrote it down.

I'm starting this new journal tomorrow close to another precipice of history: much that I hope for and hold dear in the balance. I'm grateful that God has ordained this moment to remind me to look back on my little leather ebenezer… to remind me that He has not changed.

New page. Same King. 🙏