“And he who was seated at the throne said, ‘Behold, I am making all things new’” (Revelation 21:5a, ESV).

I’ll call him John. I spent an evening this week trying to be the friend he needed. He had once been a prominent physician, but because of decadent decisions he had spent time in prison. Now, all was gone, including his family. After I helped him buy groceries, John insisted on cooking dinner for me at his house. I watched him fashion pancakes in bacon grease, as roaches crawled over the walls and the stench of mildew filled the house. His dog ran off with the Christmas ribeye I had bought for him. We talked about life and his need for the Lord. When I sat to eat with him, grease puddles on my plate, he asked me, “Where have all the years gone, and where are they taking us?”

As the new year breaks upon us, it is right to think about time—judging our past and imagining our future. And the more we age, the more we ask with my friend, “Where have all the years gone, and where are they taking us?” assuming incorrectly time is an unbroken line, with our new days hopelessly committed to the direction of our past. But the more I live out my days with the Master, the more I understand time is not determined by an unbroken line. Time is a blessing of individual moments that can be selectively wasted—or used for the Master’s glory.

Each new year is composed of new moments, linked by strings to the past, but not simply a continuum of the past. Each year has new possibilities with God. Each year can be the best or worst of our lives, with victory or defeat, with downhill slides or days of overcoming—flavored by the past but not determined by it—not limited by our individual strength, or how we have lived before—filled with the gloriously possible.

The moment is all we have on this side of glory. This coming year will be filled with new moments, brushed upon new canvases with new brush strokes to paint new portraits for our lives. The past has shaded the canvas of this coming year with various colors, but we hold the brush, and we get to decide if this time, will we again demand control of the painting or finally hand it over to the One who paints each sunrise.

As I left my friend on the steps of his front porch, I offered him this blessing, “May God bless you, John. May you walk with Him, and may this year begin the great victories in your life.”

Dear Father,  

Release into your purpose those who are chained to their past. Let each of us step into our coming year with a life surrendered to you.

Amen