Not-So-Fluffy New Beginnings
I don’t know about you, but for me, the phrase “new beginnings” brings a warm feeling inside, like snuggling up by a fire in a cozy blanket and fuzzy socks. Or it ushers in a sense of adventure, like the first day of a job you’ve been dreaming about for years, your energy and expectations high, your hope unmarred.
“New beginnings” is like a young puppy or a giggling baby or newlyweds still in the honeymoon phase. (Have I used too many metaphors yet?) But pretty soon the puppy chews up your favorite shoes, the baby’s screaming so loud it wakes the neighbors, and your new husband leaves his dishes in the sink again after you just finished cleaning the whole kitchen even though you’ve talked about it a million times in the past month of marriage…
New beginnings bring new challenges, it’s true. Things get hard, obstacles come up, and people have different perspectives. But I think things can also get hard because new beginnings sometimes bring up the same old challenges. Can I suggest that maybe we like to use new beginnings as a pretty band-aid to place over a still-bleeding gash so we can pretend everything is fine?
And when we do that, we don’t actually have new beginnings. We just have a dressed-up wound getting more and more infected.
We often look at a change in external circumstances to indicate new beginnings—a new house, a new city, a new job, a new relationship. But what if the change that is supposed to happen is actually a change inside us? The calendar year may have changed, but if we don’t change too, then do we really have new beginnings?
I believe that new beginnings require blood, sweat, and tears. They often require good-byes, whether that’s to old mindsets, old habits, or even old relationships. They require letting go so our hands can be open to receiving what’s new.
In one of his letters, Paul, after pointing the Philippians to Jesus as the ultimate example of humility and obedience, says, “Therefore, my dear friends, just as you have always obeyed, so now, not only in my presence but even more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12 CSB).
Work out your salvation? But doesn’t salvation happen when “you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead” (Rom. 10:9 CSB)? After all, salvation is the ultimate new beginning. We are to put on our new self (Eph. 4:24) as new creations (2 Cor. 5:17), raised to a new life in Christ (Col. 3:1). We are new. So, aren’t we fully saved then?
Yes. And also … we are to work out our salvation with fear and trembling.
This is the blood, sweat, and tears part. This is the part where we attend to that wound we’ve been trying to cover up, that trauma in our past we’ve been hiding from. This is where we begin to forgive what only God can help us forgive. This is where we confess that sin that keeps popping up to someone who can help keep us accountable. This is the part that is terrifying.
And yet, this is the part that is necessary for a true new beginning.
I know this is a challenging word, and I hope it doesn’t dampen your enthusiasm for the new year. Trust me, I was one of the ones jumping up and down and thanking God I made it through 2024 when that clock struck midnight. Throwing off the pain and trauma of last year was liberating. A new year feels fresh and invigorating. Enjoy that!
But also allow that sense of refreshment to draw you forward, into lasting change, into what God wants to do in you this year. New beginnings are not for the faint of heart, but I think that, empowered by the Holy Spirit and emboldened by the love of the Father, we can truly step into our new beginnings.