With Halloween around the corner, the latest meme about 2020 that I happened upon was a picture of brussel sprouts dipped in chocolate. The caption read – you guessed it – “If 2020 was Halloween candy…”

It’s been a hard year. An absurdly weird year. If we each got a penny for every time we heard the word “unprecedented” this year, I have no doubt we could retire and head for the Bahamas. Except, of course, there’s no way to actually get to our dream vacay spots now that they’re actually affordable. Yeah, 2020 has deftly thrown some classic Catch-22’s our way.

But, as we enter the last two months of the year, let’s not ask ourselves how we can ride the year out or even how we can finish the year well.

Those are good questions. But not questions that have the power to pivot our thinking or infuse hope into the rest of the year.

If you and I want to redeem 2020 in these next two months, I would suggest that we ask ourselves the following two questions every single day for the next 60 days:

1. What can I thank God for today?
2. Who can I serve today?

I can almost see your eyes rolling and almost hear the, “Yeah, right. You have no idea.” You’re right. I don’t.

But I do believe those two questions can change the trajectory of 2020, at least in the landscape of our hearts and minds, even if circumstances remain the same.

So I would invite you to look 2020 in the eye and ask yourself:

What can I thank God for today?

The other day I came across a book by Luci Swindoll: You Bring the Confetti. God Brings the Joy.

I haven’t read the book, but the title grabbed my attention. My role is to bring that confetti of gratitude and sprinkle it with abandon. Even if I don’t feel like it. Especially when I don’t feel like it.

Intentional thankfulness. Purposeful gratitude. God-directed praise. It may not change our circumstances. But it’s bound to seep into our hearts and bring bursts of joy with it.

I remember the Sunday School chorus we would excitedly sing in the 80’s (before we realized that action songs were way uncool): I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart. Where? Down in my heart. Where? DOWN IN MY HEART.

Sometimes, you have to dig deep – all the way down to the bedraggled depth of your heart. Right through the pain and bewilderment and heartache to find that elusive joy. But it’s there. Because, like the song says, Jesus put it there.

So, for the rest of 2020, invest in confetti. And make a joyful mess.

Who can I serve today?

This is a big one. Because 2020 has cut us off from others. We’ve been given the license to live in our own little bubbles. And, you know what? It’s growing on me. The separation can actually become convenient, even enjoyable, because selfishness is convenient and enjoyable. What’s not to like about a space that’s primarily occupied by me, myself, and I?

But, when I ask myself that dreaded question two, I have no choice but to ‘fess up to how comfortable I’ve gotten with walls.

To redeem 2020, those walls need to come tumbling down. To let people in. And to reach out. To give time and space and attention to the older lady from my apartment building who might talk my ear off. To the single friend who might unload her relationship problems on me. To the person who works at my house who might need a loan. To my kids who might spill syrup if I made another batch of pancakes this week. To my mom who might be vulnerable and share her own struggles with me. To the homeless person who might make me uncomfortable about my own comfortable life.

Making myself available to others changes who I am. It makes me stronger and wiser and kinder. And that’s something not even an apocalyptically bad year can take away from me.

So, friend, go ahead – throw the confetti. Take a jackhammer to those walls. Let’s finish the year strong by finishing kind and finishing joyful.

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Photo by Lina Trochez on Unsplash