A new year is about to begin.
God's been speaking to me for a few weeks about the need to let go of the old, so we can embrace the new. It's clear in the calendar, marking inanimate time -- you can't start a new year without first leaving the old one. Nice and sequential. The Old Year is ready to die, with Baby New Year sitting right there, poised to take the stage, unwrinkled and unafraid, bursting with opportunity, waiting to begin life.
As I think about this, it seems to me that people are time travelers, after all. We can live in the present, a few choose to live in the future, but many of us seem to live much of our time in the past. I often do. And isn't it ridiculous? Mostly it isn't the pleasant past, but the difficult times, the painful ones, that occupy my thoughts way too often.
Of course there is a value to looking at the old, to see what can be gleaned. Is there anything I need to pursue? Fix? Change? Can I learn something, perhaps gain some wisdom or grow in some way? But there is a limit, and it comes a lot quicker than most of us seem to think. For me, what it comes down to is this: Lord, what do you have to say about this? Anything you want to say about it all?
When he's done, I should be done. You and I should be able to let it go, and move on. Ah, there's the rub.
It's hard for me to let go of some old things. It's painful to let go of broken relationships, things that didn't go well, mistakes, betrayals. What do I think, that the next time I go through that conversation or series of events in my head, that there's going to be a different outcome? That I'll get to say what I should have said, get things off my chest, make myself feel better, defend myself, make it all work? As my friend Don told me a few months ago, "Give up all hope of ever having a better past." Somebody ought to carve that in stone.
It can be tough to say "goodbye" to the good things, too. I could echo Nicodemus, asking how I might return to the womb. Honestly, sometimes I wistfully look back to the warm and fuzzy nest of a life I had before I accepted this call of planting and pastoring a church. My husband Paul tells me I would be bored to return to the way things were. I know he's right, but sometimes, if I let myself look back, I ache for it.
God never stands still, and neither do we. I have changed, the nest has changed, the world has changed. Every person or situation of my past has changed. God is the only element that never changes. Though he seems to, because I am still learning about him. Guess I always will.
So back to the title. Next post.
God's been speaking to me for a few weeks about the need to let go of the old, so we can embrace the new. It's clear in the calendar, marking inanimate time -- you can't start a new year without first leaving the old one. Nice and sequential. The Old Year is ready to die, with Baby New Year sitting right there, poised to take the stage, unwrinkled and unafraid, bursting with opportunity, waiting to begin life.
As I think about this, it seems to me that people are time travelers, after all. We can live in the present, a few choose to live in the future, but many of us seem to live much of our time in the past. I often do. And isn't it ridiculous? Mostly it isn't the pleasant past, but the difficult times, the painful ones, that occupy my thoughts way too often.
Of course there is a value to looking at the old, to see what can be gleaned. Is there anything I need to pursue? Fix? Change? Can I learn something, perhaps gain some wisdom or grow in some way? But there is a limit, and it comes a lot quicker than most of us seem to think. For me, what it comes down to is this: Lord, what do you have to say about this? Anything you want to say about it all?
When he's done, I should be done. You and I should be able to let it go, and move on. Ah, there's the rub.
It's hard for me to let go of some old things. It's painful to let go of broken relationships, things that didn't go well, mistakes, betrayals. What do I think, that the next time I go through that conversation or series of events in my head, that there's going to be a different outcome? That I'll get to say what I should have said, get things off my chest, make myself feel better, defend myself, make it all work? As my friend Don told me a few months ago, "Give up all hope of ever having a better past." Somebody ought to carve that in stone.
It can be tough to say "goodbye" to the good things, too. I could echo Nicodemus, asking how I might return to the womb. Honestly, sometimes I wistfully look back to the warm and fuzzy nest of a life I had before I accepted this call of planting and pastoring a church. My husband Paul tells me I would be bored to return to the way things were. I know he's right, but sometimes, if I let myself look back, I ache for it.
God never stands still, and neither do we. I have changed, the nest has changed, the world has changed. Every person or situation of my past has changed. God is the only element that never changes. Though he seems to, because I am still learning about him. Guess I always will.
So back to the title. Next post.
This is really good. I like these thoughts & they're helpful! Especially the part about asking if there is anything to be learned from the past, and when He says, "Done", then move on! Thank you Lois!
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome Carrie! Thanks for the encouragement. I'm hoping to continue this blog on a regular basis. God bless you.
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