I recently came across an interesting statement. It keeps coming to mind. Here it is:
“The older we get, the more we long for a chapter of life that no longer exists.”
Did you have to read that sentence twice as well? What do you think—was the person who came up with this right?
Don’t we sometimes catch ourselves thinking in a similar way? Maybe we don’t use the same words, but our thoughts go in the same direction. We long for a past reality—for moments, people, and times that were familiar to us. We would like to continue living the way things once were—in a time that felt familiar and safe. But that time no longer exists. It has long since passed. What once was, now lives only in our memory.
The start of a New Year often reminds us of this. We look back at what has been. How beautiful it was in the past! Life felt so comfortable and constant. But the more we occupy ourselves with the past, the more difficult the present seems at times. We struggle to think about the future—it seems uncertain, unpredictable, perhaps even frightening. And so we catch ourselves thinking: Why couldn’t everything stay the way it was? Why does everything have to change?
If we persist in this train of thought, it’s easy to feel down and become depressed. Joy fades, and we become a burden to ourselves and to others. But God does not want us to remain stuck in melancholy. He reminds us that every phase of life has its own beauty and its own value.
We may treasure the past and thank God for everything He has given us. We feel much like John, who writes that from Christ’s fullness we have received “grace upon grace” (John 1:16). We recall the years of service, the times when we were actively involved—in the church, in ministry, in the family. We participated eagerly, giving our time, our strength, and often our money for God’s work. Those were good and blessed years. But they are history, and things are no longer as they once were.
A glance in the mirror is enough to remind us: We are no longer who we once were. And yet we may say: To everything there is a season. Today, others fill the positions we once held. We may watch from the sidelines, and sometimes we even feel we have been “shelved.” And then the longing for the past creeps in again—longing for a time that no longer exists.
But perhaps God wants to use this yearning to teach us something. It does not signify a flaw in our hearts, but rather has a deeper meaning. God has placed a longing for eternity in every heart. And sometimes, when we sense a loss of what once was, God calls us through that very longing to look up—not to look back, but to look ahead.
Our true home is not here on this earth, but with Him. There, nothing will ever pass away, and everything we long for will be perfectly fulfilled in His presence. Perhaps God wants to remind us through this longing that everything on earth is temporary, but He remains the same.
When a lot changes, when familiar things disappear, when people, tasks, or circumstances shift—then we can know: God does not change.
The Bible emphasizes this truth clearly. In Psalm 102:25–27 we read:
“Of old You laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of Your hands. They will perish, but You will endure; yes, they will all grow old like a garment; like a cloak You will change them, and they will be changed. But You are the same, and Your years will have no end.”
And in Malachi 3:6 God Himself says: “For I am the Lord, I do not change.”
These words are an anchor for our souls. In a world where everything is in flux, God stands firm. His love is unchanging, His faithfulness endures. He was faithful—and He remains faithful!
This truth changes our perspective. When we understand that God reigns over all times, that He is subject to no change, even our memories take on new meaning. The God who carried us in the past is the same God who holds us today and will lead us tomorrow.
His faithfulness is evident in many small details in daily life—in a new morning, in a prayer that is answered, in an encounter that becomes an encouragement. And even when we grow weak, when our strength and endurance fade, He remains the same strong and gracious God. His promise stands:
“Even to your old age, I am He, and even to gray hairs I will carry you! I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you” (Isaiah 46:4).
What a promise! God carries us—not only in the young, vigorous years, but also when we become old and tired. He does not let us go.
Therefore, we should not see our longing for past times as something to be sad about. Rather, it is God’s gentle call to us—a reminder that we do not have a lasting city here (Hebrews 13:14). Our true home is with Him, where nothing fades, where no tears are shed, and where time has no control.
This perspective changes our thinking. It turns our focus from the past toward the future—toward what God has in store for us. For with Him, the story does not end in loss, but in fulfillment.
Our hearts find rest when we learn not to cling to the past, but to commit ourselves into God’s hands. He has guided our lives—and He will complete what He has begun. Whoever trusts in Him loses nothing; on the contrary—he gains stability, hope, and a home.
Therefore, we can say in the end:
He was faithful—and He remains faithful.
He was with us yesterday, He is with us today, and He will be with us for eternity.
Harry Semenjuk
Wetaskiwin, AB
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