Still With Us: Hope for New BeginningsPrøve

I grew up in a family where we avoid when we’re uncomfortable. We cross the street to avoid people we’d rather not encounter, leave the room when things get uncomfortable, or say no to events on the off chance we might have to face someone we’d rather not see. I grew up anticipating it, the cold shoulder of anger or disapproval, when I had done less than stellar at school or when my young, impertinent words would strike a chord, or when I failed to keep a promise. I grew up expecting avoidance. When the reality of COVID-19 hit, I remember how jarring it was when we would go out on walks. The streets were eerily quiet and lacked the normal whirr of car engines and the metallic scrape of people taken off guard by speed bumps. Depending on the time of day, we might walk several blocks before seeing another living soul. And when we did, there was the awkward dance of social distancing, bowing out of one another’s way or walking in the middle of the deserted road to put at least six feet between us. So to me, our walks felt like evidence the whole world felt like it was on edge. As if we were all mad at one another, avoiding one another by crossing the street. Many, many months into social distancing now, it feels almost second nature to cross the street or to not share a greeting. Our circles have grown much smaller since before COVID, and the world feels increasingly on edge, though in different ways. My dog Whiskey, on the other hand, has no qualms. He strains his leash, hind legs propelling him forward like a clumsy dancer, trying to say hello to anyone who comes near our path. He’ll run across the street to greet you which--while slightly annoying to the person holding his leash--you can imagine is welcomed by most lonely souls we walk past. My favorite part of my day has become the moment I walk out of our bedroom in the morning. Whiskey sleeps in his kennel, but as soon as he realizes one of us has appeared, his little body freezes up with anticipation and then all of a sudden erupts into a flying package of tail wags and licks as he attacks you with his uninhibited love. Can you imagine, in a world where belonging and approval feel so conditional, anything as healing as a warm presence that showers you with affection and love no matter how you feel, what you’ve done, or where you stand? Every single morning, I am greeted by love. In the morning, I see the heart of God in my rambunctious, teething dog. I feel a love that moves towards me when I'm already halfway across the street. The world feels a little less lonely knowing there is a safe Presence that can hold even the most divided parts of ourselves together and be the bridge between old and new. And thankfully with whom, unlike Whiskey, there are no accidents. So as you move into new beginnings, or even if your life remains markedly unchanged, I hope you experience the heart of God each morning. Regardless of what has or hasn't happened in the past year or whether you manage to keep your resolutions beyond January, the gospel is good news that each day, there is a Love that unconditionally greets you in extravagant excitement. In the words of James Bryan Smith, "You are one in whom Christ delights and dwells." It is out of this assured love that true change comes. New beginnings don’t just come once a year. Every morning, the love of God waits to greet you this very moment. In Him, there are fresh mercies. Holding you close this morning, friends.