The Great Reset, AKA, Growing Pains 2

The Great Reset

I've been starting to hear about "The Great Reset," a concept that seems to set many hearts aflutter with hope while inducing some seasoned pundits to bite their perfectly manicured nails. As I said, I'm only just learning about this idea, so am not going to comment one way or the other. I am, however, going to shamelessly coopt the phrase for the purposes of this article.

The To Do List

This aspiring author woke up yesterday with a to do list longer than the flowing scarves magicians coax out of otherwise unexceptional sleeves. Much of it was very mundane, things like cooking and correspondence, but nonetheless, important to me and the people who matter to me. Other things were "bigger ticket items" that mandate more time and attention (financial planning, tech issues, etc.).

True confessions: I just had to pause my ruminations upon remembering that I was late paying a bill. The creditor very politely emailed me two days ago, and it's been on my to do list, but, well, refer back to paragraph two. 

See what kind of a week it's been?

The Letdown

I think what's really getting to me has been brewing since Christmas Eve. It's my favorite day of the year, what with the anticipation and beauty and hopefulness that seems to pervade all 24 hours of it.

But that's just the point. It's only 24 hours. No matter how hard I try to savor each moment, Christmas Eve always turns into Christmas morning - also a wonderful day, but one which carries with it the knowledge that that's it for another year. Come December 26, decorations will start to look old and haggard, and huge trash bags will go out to the curb, full of dead evergreens and the remnants of what was and will not be again for another 364 days. 

The Growing Pains

There's a sweet scene in the pilot movie that kicked off The Waltons TV series in which the youngest child confides to her brother that she intends to "stay little" and never grow up. She even has a plan to thwart the efforts of time. By compressing between both tiny hands whatever body part seems to be expanding, she hopes to outsmart the growing pains and stay forever a child.

I get where she's coming from. But, like copper-haired Elizabeth Walton, I fail every year at trying to make time stand still where Christmas Eve is concerned.

Time, after all, will always have its way with us.

And growing pains will always hurt, and they will always be worth every iota of pain they cost us.

What Elizabeth doesn't realize is that, unless she grows up, she'll never know the joys that await the adult world. Parenting, perhaps, but maturity for sure, unless she stymies time's work in shaping her life by making infantile, unwise choices. The satisfaction of tackling hard tasks and experiencing both success and failure in the doing. The wisdom that accompanies whitening of the hair (one of the reasons I stopped dyeing mine - why try to hide the evidence of God's maturing process?). The diminishing concern for pleasing a fickle world, and heightening interest in honoring an unchanging God. Most of these accomplishments are mysteries to the young, as they should be. No one arrives on this earth all grown up, and half the satisfaction of living is achieving a form of wisdom that can only come through bumps and bruises.

The Longevity of the Cross

An insightful (if I do say so myself) sentiment came to me the other day, unbidden. I posted it on Facebook, but apparently I need to remind myself: 

Christmas Day doesn't last, but what Christ did at Christmas lasts forever!

I mean, didn't we see that in spades this year? As the wealth and hedonism of our nation has had to step aside due to the ravages of coronavirus, didn't we gain an inkling of all that we could do without this Christmas? And, folks, not to be a crepehanger, but this isn't even as bad as it can get. Not by a long shot. Political tides being what they are, and with society's fear factor edging off the charts, we could be in for anything.

But, as Corrie ten Boom and her sister discovered in the concentration camp that rewarded them for protecting their fellow man, "There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still." Little did they know that deliverance would come for them as the new year dawned, and joy would take on a dimension far beyond anything found under a pine-needled tree. 

When all the tinsel and glitter of the holiday were stripped away, there lay Christ, still in that manger. Right where He's always been, at the heart of Christmas. 

But our great God didn't stop there; Christmas turned into Easter and death turned into life when the creche met the cross.

So, yes, time will march on, and some of its passage will be accompanied by anxiety and even dread. Anxiety about carefree times ending and the hard work of day to day living starting up again. Dread of happiness giving way to trouble. We mortals are prone to these emotions, and I daresay Christ expressed the same just before accomplishing His magnum opus: "Abba, Father, all things are possible for You. Take this cup away from me; nevertheless, not what I will, but what You will" (Mark 14:36).

Take a good look at what follows the semicolon, for therein lies the key. Our Savior knew God's will superseded His human one, which was largely operating in Gethsemane. He was setting an example for us that any Golgotha which may loom ahead can be handled through close fellowship with the Father.

The Greatest Reset

Likewise, this author can attack the unknown with faith, even as holidays yield to workaday life and new powers that be replace familiar ones. And whatever "great reset" those powers may wish to impose, a far greater reset awaits all who place their hope in the ultimate reset that took place at Calvary: divinity obliterating the barriers between itself and blemished humanity.

So, finally returning to my to do list, who am I to think I'm going to finish everything before returning to work in a few days? It took Christ 33 years to accomplish His earthly ministry; yet, this girl wants to complete all her self-appointed goals for the vacation within the next 24 hours. 

Not gonna happen.

But what sometimes does happen is what occurred yesterday morning. The MINUTE my prayer partner and I hung up the phone, having studied Scripture and lifted praise and requests to God, I received a call which held counsel I badly need to move forward in 2021. 

Funny how putting first things first has a way of calming panic and frenzy and pointing us to the one who holds answers to both.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Check out: Panic? The Wrong God! (Note: sermon starts at 21:50, in case anyone wants to get right to the best part; believe me, it's worth the time).