(Isaiah 43:18-19)
I was reading this yesterday, just before a friend told
me she was packing up and heading off to different climes. Her children had all
grown up. She has quit her job. All the things that come with the job, all the
benefits, the retirement package – just right now she is cutting them loose.
I never quite has the courage to do that. That’s actually
not true. I did quit my job for a while. I joined a gospel outreach mission for
a year. Was it the best year of my life? No. It was a good year, a year to
celebrate an adventure in faith. Other years, that came after were as good. I
don’t want to forget the former things – not those good things. I don’t want to
be always hankering for the good old days as if today can never measure up.
“He will sit as a
refiner and purifier of silver; he will purify the Levites and refine them like
gold and silver. Then the Lord will have men who will bring offerings in
righteousness…” (Malachi 3:3)
I also read these words from Malachi. The people of God had
been in exile and returned to Jerusalem to rebuild the city and the temple.
They were getting disheartened. They felt that whatever they built would never
measure up to the temple that Solomon built. Worship would never reach the
lofty heights of a holy smoke filled room, the building shaking and the people
falling to their knees in awe. That was all in the past. Things were different
now and they simply had to adjust to something “less than” what went before.
I’m not sure that God said then that it would all work
out right in the end. He gave them a stern talking to. Their attitude was less
than positive and their actions were half hearted at best, down right contemptuous
at worse.
These were the people that Isaiah was speaking to, long
before they went into exile. He told them they would go, but it wouldn’t be
forever because God had a plan. They had lost sight of the plan God had. The old things held their attention – the good
old days that weren’t so good at all.
New things? I admit that I’m not always the adventurous
kind. My friend choosing to down tools, to waiver pension payments and all the
world says will bring security – her actions have made me thing that the
comfortable nest I have built is perhaps falling short of what God intended for
me. I have downed tools. I retired and got myself a bus pass. So much time now.
So much time to do the things God has set aside for me to do. I’m not supposed to
keep on building the nest.
New things?
"And no one
puts new wine into old wineskins. For the wine would burst the wineskins, and
the wine and the skins would both be lost. New wine calls for new
wineskins." (Mark 2:22)
An old wineskin doesn’t become a new one – not ever. Old
is old. The leather is less malleable. There are cracks. It needs to be
replaced. God reminded me that I’m not an old wineskin. I stopped being one
when I entered into a covenant with Him. What was old was done with. Tossed
away as not needed.
“So,” said God, “you are a new wineskin – except you are
not behaving like one. You are a new wineskin that thinks it’s old. You are
soft leather. You are flexible. You can expand when the new thing comes. Except
you’re not. What you are and what you think you are – you’re not in harmony
with yourself. Everything is a battle and it shouldn’t be.”
Wineskins
It’s entirely
possible
To be an old
wineskin
That thinks itself
new
You spread out
ready
For the new wine
Except you can’t
stretch
Too set in your
way
Unable to bend,
you break
And the wine is
lost
It’s entirely possible
To be a new
wineskin
That thinks itself
old
You could spread
out ready
For the new wine
Except you don’t
Too afraid of the
adventure
Able to bend,
unlikely to break
But the wine is
never shared
It is the truth
You are a new
wineskin
Reckon yourself
new
Stretch and spread
For the new wine
is
Coming now – right
now
Embrace the
adventure
Bend with the Spirit
Share the wine
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