All Things New

Jeff's sermon on Sunday talked about newness. He pointed out that there are two ways of being new that aren't exactly the same. The first way of being new is exemplified by the 'new car': it has that great new-car smell, it never drives better than when you take it off the lot, it's shiny and you can definitely show it off to everyone. There's absolutely nothing negative about this kind of newness -- except, of course, the possibility that something newer and better will come along.

The second way of being new is best captured by the new pair of shoes: it's great to have new shoes, but the first few times you wear them are murder. You have to break them in a bit before they're really comfortable. Hypothetically, it's possible to keep your new shoes forever if you keep repairing them and fixing the scuffs, but it takes a lot of work. Making your old shoes 'new' again also means going through a bit of discomfort, both when they really need repair and when you're getting used to the new adjustments.

The second way of being new is a little ambiguous, because there are parts of it that aren't easy. You miss your old, comfy shoes even though you're happy with the new ones.

It's always easy for me to think of Easter as a season of newness -- new life, Resurrection, new start, new ministry. But the idea of the new shoes reminds me that Lent, too, is a season of newness. It's a difficult time for a lot of people, myself included, because it involves sacrifice and a re-evaluation of the lives we're living. It's uncomfortable. But this Lenten discomfort is also a renewal as we strive to live in the way of the Cross.

Lent exemplifies the truth that God is making all things new because it calls us to put on that uncomfortable pair of new shoes, challenging us in a way that makes us better followers of Christ.

What does newness feel like to you?