“Behold I am doing a new thing do you not perceive it springing forth? I am making away in the wilderness, rivers are bursting in the desert.” – Isaiah 43:19
The elders wept when the old became new in Ezra Ch. 3. Too often we think that the new looks glamorous. Yet somehow the old does too. I know I miss how things were. Everything was so simple then; my life was planned out and structured. It seems just as awfully complicated these days. Nothing in my life is set and I feel like I have no end goal. Everything I once knew has flipped upside down. It can seem overwhelming. But let’s be real, the old had its problems too. It was fallen, broken, just coasting through.
Sometimes the only way to get through the new, is to not be so stuck in what could’ve been that you miss out on the goodness of this season. It’s easy to stay in what’s comfortable, not wanting changing, accepting that where you are is where you’ll be forever. That’s how the Israelites ended up as exiles to begin with. They probably thought it would be safer to stay in their oppression because it was at least known.
If the story of the exiles tells us anything, is that God will do what he wants whether we agreed to it or not. He will make a way. In this case, He literally put His agenda on the heart of an ungodly man in a foreign kingdom and made a Way in what seemed like an identity wilderness. Not just any way, He provided the means, the method, and the provision for it.
Yeah, I’ve screwed up. I admit, I’ve lost sight of what really matters. I’ve gotten angry at the process and how long it seems to be taking. I’ve forgotten that He’s enough. I’ve come to Him with my agenda and my plan. Maybe the real reason I feel stuck because I won’t do it His way.
Maybe what I should be doing is going back to where I started and begin again. The beauty of the cry of the elders when the temple was rebuilt, is that they were transported back to where they started. Back when it was all about entering in and wanting nothing else but to simply be in His presence. To simply be. How am I supposed to understand the beauty of what He’s done already when I’ve lost sight of it? How am I supposed to draw others into His Presence if I’m on the outside looking in?
All that matters in the end is this: do I want Him? Do I truly want Him and nothing else? Or do I want what He can do for me? Do I want the one who taught the waves to dance? Who chose the color of my eyes? Who is separated night from day to mark out time for our blessing? Do I want the one who died so we could have a life together instead of being apart?
If I get stuck in the thoughts that roll in my head, the what could’ve been or what could be, that where I get truly lost. The lines between old and new get blurred so easily and the cycle repeats itself.
“Behold I am doing a new thing.”
I want nothing else more. Maybe the new thing springing forth is a greater desire to simply sit at His feet. To thank Him for His goodness and what He has done. To trust that He doesn’t need to keep proving Himself when He already did with the cross. To turn the cry of my heart from what I want to declaration of the truth.
For He is good, His faithful love endures forever.
Do I truly believe that? Do I?
May my weeping and crying out in praise be as indistinguishable as the cry of those will be held His presence anew on that day when the temple foundation was rebuilt.
For the old is now new.
It’s not easy being in winter. It’s bare, cold and lonely. But without winter, without a season of burial, a season of night, we wouldn’t rejoice as boldly. Oh how magnificent is the blossom when the bright, glorious, radiant sun rises. Our God loves taking our breath away. He is worthy even in the darkness. His banner over us is love and He is trustworthy to complete what He started.
Your season will come. It will. Just not when and how you think it will. In the meantime, breath the cold into your lungs, allow Him to strengthen you, and rest in the wonder.