One full 365-day year, in all its glory—it waits upon us just now.
From go to woe we will consider these many things: dates, events, consumption, battles to be won and lost.
Birthdays celebrated, deaths mourned. Weddings had—marriages initiated; divorces too. Comings and goings. Partnerships of different kinds; blessed and cursed. Events all the same.
Fluctuations economically. Gains and losses. Fortunes made and bankruptcies too. Success stories and those of failure, but mostly of safe mediocrity.
Living—little and lot. Some will get it; some won’t (just yet). Others too will seem no closer than ever. Happiness will remain frustratingly elusive to the many. Some people will have peace to envy.
Drought, floods, feast and famine. And all things between. Over the vast scarp of the earth lay all manner of possibility.
Transient hotel stays. Journeying. Time to set down roots and time to uproot. Time indeed, without warning in many cases, to pause and consider a transition time.
Booming industry. Houses built and demolished. Preparation and execution (and time for reflection).
Talent and failure. Performance and embarrassment.
At last: Rest and reprise. Expense and reaping. Exhaustion and rest.
From go to woe... in the midst of all this change, one thing won’t: God.
This is a great thing for us. We can change but God won’t. Our potential in this New Year is one for renewal and transformation—into the likeness of the heavenly King.
What sort of year it will be for us remains to be seen. We see but through a glass darkly. A hesitant image of way; that’s what’s in store. Yet, tomorrow will surprise us, not to mention the astonishments ahead in 300-odd days time.
To simply hold onto the resonant hope of the coming of God into our lives, transiently, permanently, undeniably—that’s the aim. And our hope doesn’t disappoint us. A new year it might be, with all its harrowing goodbyes amid the excitement of the countdown.
We let go of the previous year, all its darkness and triumph alike—and we cast our minds to the future. Expectant are we, for the chains of time hold us firmly and safely in place. The place we bear right now, in accord with Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata, is our place:
“You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars.”
God is still with us. In all of what we do in this fresh New Year, he remains unchanged and for us, not against us.
© 2011 S. J. Wickham.