"And he who sat upon the throne said, 'Behold I make all things new.' "
This is a blog of new beginnings. This has been a year of new beginnings. But this is the thing about new beginnings: they are preceded by death. So if I'm telling the truth, and I desire to be only a truth teller, this has been a year of dying.
I had a blog that documented my life and thoughts for many years. But somehow in the dying, it feels like that blog needed to die as well. In starting new, I'm starting here. With the words from Revelation that have spoken my truth the past several months and will continue to speak my truth. Words that have breathed life into my dry bones. Words that have given me promise that while I couldn't see the new thing yet, there is hope in the old thing dying.
That hope has been on my lips this year as I spoke to person after person walking through deaths of their own. Deaths of loved ones, of marriages and longstanding relationships, bodies that are breaking, minds that are rebelling, spirits that are withering. So many times I've spoken the very words I needed to hear. I've spoken promises of healing and redemption, of Everlasting Love, and promises of new life. Words have tumbled from my mouth repeatedly until I've had no choice but to believe they are also meant for me. That's the thing about God's promises, we are meant to speak them. Over each other and ourselves.
In this year of dying--dying to false beliefs, wasted efforts of perfection seeking, approval earning, and pride--I've come to know who it is God is calling me to be. I'm no one's rescuer. That isn't my job. It never was even though I made it mine. I'm the rescued. That changes everything.
And in this year of things being made new, everything is changing. It is so much easier to love when I don't have to fix or be fixed. It is so much easier to be when I'm not afraid of being seen. In being brutally honest with myself before a gracious God, I've found the true meaning of reconciliation and restoration. And maybe that's just it. Maybe that's what God wants most from me: to work on His behalf to bring restoration and healing. I'm not the restorer. That's the job of my Redeemer. But I can work on His behalf. I can hope for the hopeless, I can love whether it is returned or not, I can speak Life, I can offer grace and receive it with open hands. I can choose joy.
Perhaps there is no better time than now to sit in the gap between the dying thing and new thing. This is a waiting time. A time of anticipation of a birth that begins writing a new story of redemption. A story of Love swaddled in a manger. There is life and death in that manger story. There is hope and healing. There is the promise of all things new.
This is a blog of new beginnings. This has been a year of new beginnings. But this is the thing about new beginnings: they are preceded by death. So if I'm telling the truth, and I desire to be only a truth teller, this has been a year of dying.
I had a blog that documented my life and thoughts for many years. But somehow in the dying, it feels like that blog needed to die as well. In starting new, I'm starting here. With the words from Revelation that have spoken my truth the past several months and will continue to speak my truth. Words that have breathed life into my dry bones. Words that have given me promise that while I couldn't see the new thing yet, there is hope in the old thing dying.
That hope has been on my lips this year as I spoke to person after person walking through deaths of their own. Deaths of loved ones, of marriages and longstanding relationships, bodies that are breaking, minds that are rebelling, spirits that are withering. So many times I've spoken the very words I needed to hear. I've spoken promises of healing and redemption, of Everlasting Love, and promises of new life. Words have tumbled from my mouth repeatedly until I've had no choice but to believe they are also meant for me. That's the thing about God's promises, we are meant to speak them. Over each other and ourselves.
In this year of dying--dying to false beliefs, wasted efforts of perfection seeking, approval earning, and pride--I've come to know who it is God is calling me to be. I'm no one's rescuer. That isn't my job. It never was even though I made it mine. I'm the rescued. That changes everything.
And in this year of things being made new, everything is changing. It is so much easier to love when I don't have to fix or be fixed. It is so much easier to be when I'm not afraid of being seen. In being brutally honest with myself before a gracious God, I've found the true meaning of reconciliation and restoration. And maybe that's just it. Maybe that's what God wants most from me: to work on His behalf to bring restoration and healing. I'm not the restorer. That's the job of my Redeemer. But I can work on His behalf. I can hope for the hopeless, I can love whether it is returned or not, I can speak Life, I can offer grace and receive it with open hands. I can choose joy.
Perhaps there is no better time than now to sit in the gap between the dying thing and new thing. This is a waiting time. A time of anticipation of a birth that begins writing a new story of redemption. A story of Love swaddled in a manger. There is life and death in that manger story. There is hope and healing. There is the promise of all things new.
