Early in the morning of January 1, 2020, I poured myself a cup of coffee and stepped out on the back deck to greet the new year, and maybe get a glimpse of our resident deer and turkeys.

It was cold and frosty, but I noticed steam rising from our yard — a curiosity that demanded closer inspection. What I discovered was raw sewage bubbling up from the ground. At that moment, I did not understand that the year 2020 was proclaiming its undignified arrival.

I called the sanitary authority, and a dedicated group of guys came out to unclog the neighborhood sewer line. Since you may be eating a meal while reading this article, I will spare you any further description of the scene or of the fragrance of toilet water wafting through the air.

The sanitary guys were rather jovial as we spent several hours looking for and uncovering buried manholes. Once the blockage was located, they used a high-pressure hose to administer a world-class enema to the sewer line. It worked, and soon a massive load of backed-up neighborhood deposit was flowing freely to the treatment plant. What a relief.

As the guys were leaving, I jokingly said, “It’s probably not a very good omen when you spend New Year’s Day dealing with a big pile of — well — you know.”

Sadly, it wasn’t a joke. 2020 has proven to be a year of untold global loss and grief; of sickness and suffering; of distance and fear; of isolation and cancellation; of political misinformation and polarization; of harsh disagreements and broken friendships; of bitterness and distrust. My heart is hurting as I revisit the losses of the year that is passing — and I know yours is too.

We sometimes forget, but the third chapter of Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time and season for all things — even the hard things of 2020:

“There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.”

As I write, I am once again looking out across my backyard. It is a dreary site. Thankfully, I don’t see any steam rising, but the woods are desolate, the snow is deep, the trees are bare, and the day is dreary. Were it not for the birds at our feeder, there wouldn’t be any sign of life out there.

But friends, even in the depths of winter, life goes on. As I look more closely, I can see the red hue on the tree tips caused by thousands of emerging buds. You see, trees never stop growing, even in winter. Long before any of us are thinking about spring, their roots are already delivering sap to the branches as they prepare for another season of growth. The trees of Penn’s woods may look lifeless, but rest assured, they are not. There is a season for everything.

And that includes the year 2020. It has been dark and dreary and lifeless, but deep within our hibernating souls, the sap of new life is already flowing. We can’t see it yet, but rest assured, it is there, and it is flowing strong.

Heather and I have served our Lord in full-time ministry for a long time, but our church has never suffered losses like it has this year. At times, we felt like we were watching our life’s work disintegrate before our eyes. We know that many of you have suffered similar losses. It’s been devastating.

But over the years we’ve learned something about hard times: they always come before good times, just as winter always comes before spring. A time of scattering always comes before a time of gathering, and a time of tearing down always comes before a time of building up. There really is a season for everything. And because we’ve watched God gather and build up before, we know He will do it again.

I woke up this morning with II Corinthians 4 drifting through my mind. I can think of no better way to conclude the year 2020 than to leave these powerful words of encouragement with you. May they fill you with the hope of resurrection and peace:

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed — Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”

My dear friends, don’t lose heart and don’t give up — the best is yet to come. Heather and I look forward to sharing 2021 with you, and with all our friends across the beautiful Susquehanna Valley. From the Hartzell home to yours, Happy New Year!