First Day

Happy New Year!

But is today really any different from yesterday? Ecclesiastes would argue that every day is like every other day, days on end, ad infinitum! And, admit it, that is our experience most of the time. We slide from one day into another with some sort of nighttime rest in between, following our patterns and routines, even the weekends, and, for some of us, even the vacation spots remaining the same. The sun rises, the sun sets, and God goes on.

Yet, we stubbornly mark New Year’s, loudly celebrating all things fresh and new, looking at the blank pages of the calendar, seeing them as opportunities, possibilities, potentialities, and, hopefully, full of brightness, hope, and new beginnings. So, we resolutely make resolutions, determined to make changes, transformations, and reformations of our being.

Yet (what a wonderful word that “yet” is), we hear the niggling voice of the inner skeptic whispering, “Yeah, right…)—or, the voice of Ecclesiastes drumming, “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity…”

Yet, most of us throw our shoulders back in defiance—it is January 1, after all—and try to silence the skeptic. No, this year, things can be different; this year, I am determined; this year, I will make it well into May with my resolve intact. 

It can be so. It really can.

The key is to abandon the emphasis on “I” as we enter into resolutions. Ironically, to make ourselves able to fulfill our resolutions, we need to let go of them as things we do. Instead, open yourself to the welcome of others who can help, assist, and work with us as we go. 

This is the beauty of our faith stream—the community of Christ is precisely that—a community. Christ did not bring a new mandate, lay it on our backs, wish us good luck, and set us on our way all by our lonesome. Rather, Christ gathered a community around himself. Then, the Spirit quickened that community into a fellowship of grace that Luke described as having all things in common to the mutual upbuilding of one another. 

Nothing has changed.

We are the descendants of that same community—i.e., the same mutuality, commonality, and communal purpose is ours, to our benefit, help, and hope.

Trust in that presence. Fall into it, just like you fell into your mother’s or father’s arms when you were little, overwhelmed, and maybe frightened by life itself. It all seemed so big, and we were so little. But there were those strong arms, enfolding us, sheltering us, and keeping us. Those arms are present in our friends in faith. Congregations become what they are to be when they embody this sort of love for all their adherents (becoming even more of Christ when they extend those arms to the world beyond their walls). 

With that sort of support, things needing change can change. The journey goes faster with fellow travelers. 

But there is one more companion present, one whom we easily forget is there because he is so silent, still, and steady. God is with us in every breath, whether we are waking or sleeping. 

Trust yourself to God’s care, comfort, and companionship. Allow God to be with you, consciously and conspicuously (no, this does not necessarily mean plastering your car with religious bumper stickers [unless that is who you are])—it means mindfully remembering throughout the day that God is there. 

Let God lead, guide, and direct you. Fall into God.

All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.