When I was a kid, I used to play this game. Whenever I was feeling tired, or scared, or upset, I would close my eyes and count to three. One, two, three. 

And by the time I opened my eyes, I would be brave again, or happy again.

Children both see the world as it’s presented to them, and what isn’t there – maybe it’s because they only see within borders that they use their imagination to fill in the blanks. Regardless, I let this game go as I got older.

There’s something appealing, though, of that newness. New years are always a catalyst, yet by the time week two rolls around, the year already feels worn and lived in. There are so many things we try in order to accomplish the feeling of a new beginning; a move, a vacation, a Staples reset button.

But it’s an inside job, to clean and make new, and one that we cannot accomplish on our own efforts, reaching for materialism and outward excursions to fix something that can’t be reached by humanity. It’s a job reserved for God, who desired it so much that He sent Himself in human form so we might really grasp the concept.

I’m still learning what the promise of “Behold, I make all things new” (Revelation 2:15) means for my life and lives around me, the full extent of the declaration.

What does it mean for you?

One, two, three. 


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