He Makes All Things New

Twenty-seven is not anywhere near old. In my head, I know that. But so many of my friends and I have begun of late to experience a certain world-weariness. We don't feel old, per se, but tired. Tired of our personal failings, tired of walking the same path that isn't supposed to be permanent but has no end in sight, tired of socializing and then saying goodbye to friends, tired of dates that go nowhere, tired of feeling stuck.

That line from the psalm, "Give me back the joy of my youth," has been playing on repeat in my mind and heart for the past several months. Where did the enthusiasm of college and even young twenties go? Some days I wonder if I'll ever feel strongly about anything again. Do we just have to accept the slow ebbing of passion as we continue the inexorable march to thirty?

I took this with me to prayer one evening in Advent, and that beautiful line from Mel Gibson's "The Passion" came to me as a clear answer: "I make all things new."

I was struck in a new way by the circumstances in which Jesus says that line. He's staggering under the cross, he falls, and his mother rushes forward to comfort him–her bleeding, suffering son on the road to death. On the surface, it's a scene without hope. Yet Jesus speaks words of comfort to Mary instead.

Don't give into the appearance of hopelessness. That seeming despair was the birth of hope for the whole world.

It's a fitting reflection, especially as we celebrate Christmas and launch out on a new year. We don't go forward alone. We must not give up on hope.

There's comfort in knowing not just that He can, but He wants to remake us completely. He thinks we're worth the time and the effort, even when we can't see the point in continuing the struggle–when mediocrity seems almost inevitable. We must not give in to weariness. He makes all things new.