January
1, 2020
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old earth had disappeared. And the sea was also gone. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven like a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!” And then he said to me, “Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.” And he also said, “It is finished! I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End. To all who are thirsty I will give freely from the springs of the water of life. Revelation 21:1-6
There is a sense within that resonates with new. Everyone loves the thought of replacing the
old clunker we drive with something that smells fresh off the assembly
line. We would prefer a fresh hairstyle
instead of the bad hair month in which we dwell. A new recipe, new friend, new space, new job,
or a new anything gives a sense of getting a chance to
start fresh; who doesn’t love having a clean slate (as long as we can keep the
good stuff we gained with the old slate).
If you look at John the Revelator’s metaphors, new
soars out from the throne in every direction.
The “old” heavens and earth are history.
The sea (representing chaos and danger) are gone. In their place we see the gift of New
Jerusalem, a holy city, as fresh, innocent, and beautiful as a new
bride. The city is a gift
from God Himself, Who is in the center of the city, guarantee of His desire to
live with the people who dwell there. It
is a new thing, and it plucks the strings of joy for
anyone who has seen the reality of the fading nature of earthly beauty and
strength…and even breath.
New is
something to which we all aspire; yet we cling to the old
with a ferocity of which lions and wolves can only dream. It is fear of the unknown that makes us cling
to what we know, even in its present pain, rather than face uncertainty. But even our clinging link with the past is a
wisp of smoke that vanishes when we lean our full weight on it. Nothing in this life outlasts death. But the promise of God is that nothing in
death can persist in His presence; even death gives way to new life.
So the promise of all things new is a change, not
merely (or even) of location from planet earth to some ethereal, heavenly
cloud-walking, harp-strumming tedium of unsmiling, unfeeling, tea party-like
formality of servitude around the throne; this promise is the one always
new reality of joy unspeakable and full of glory!
That’s how the apostle Peter described God’s new
life:
You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him now, you trust him; and you rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy. 1 Peter 1:8
Even just contemplating the notion of stepping out of the familiar into
the unknown causes one to draw a deep breath; it’s hard to let go of what gives
us comfort and stability. But it’s hard
to receive anything new if our hands are locked in a death
grip on what we think we possess.
