New Year, New Mercies
When I was a kid, I begged to be allowed to stay up late on New Year’s Eve. I wanted to watch the New Year ball drop in Times Square on TV. My parents would usually go to bed at their regular time before midnight, but I would stay up in anticipation, sometimes accompanied by my siblings. I’d turn on the TV five to ten minutes before midnight to watch the festivities. People packed tightly into that square in New York City. Lights flashed and glittered. Sound boomed as music played and people chattered and cheered. Newscasters bundled in coats with rosy cheeks and foggy breath looked bright-eyed with excitement as they spoke of the joyfulness around them. Celebrities were interviewed while popular musicians performed for the crowds.
And then came the time. As the countdown dropped to one minute, the excitement built to a frenzy. People shouted and jumped up and down, waving banners and lights. The clock hit ten seconds and the ball began its descent. The sight of the countdown ticking like the leadup to a space shuttle launch caused a rush of happy commotion and fanfare for all the possibilities of the New Year. The novelty of a calendar-marked new beginning was as fresh and warm as a loaf of bakery bread in the cold and darkness of the winter nighttime.
Three.
Two.
One.
The ball hit the bottom of its base. The numbers of the new year burst alight on the ball and on the screens around the square as 12 AM on January 1 arrived. Confetti sprayed and electric chords were strummed. Couples kissed passionately in the crowd as their first act of the year.
I’d watch for a moment. Then I would turn off the TV and go to bed, eager to face January 1 whenever I awoke. Everything had changed, and yet nothing had changed, because it was simultaneously the first day of a new calendar year and just another cold winter day.
I’d watch for a moment. Then I would turn off the TV and go to bed, eager to face January 1 whenever I awoke. Everything had changed, and yet nothing had changed, because it was simultaneously the first day of a new calendar year and just another cold winter day.
The following month would be filled with the hope of new beginnings, until the hope started to fade away and the year began in earnest. School would start again. Normal activities would resume. The winter would progress and become springtime.
I’ve always been somewhat conflicted about the New Year holiday. In the emotional side of my brain, it’s a reason to celebrate, kind of like a birthday. There’s always a chance for a new beginning, and new beginnings are worth rejoicing over. There’s always a chance to experience something new, face my fears with courage, and make a difference.
But in the rational—and admittedly more pessimistic—side of my brain, I acknowledge the truth that the New Year doesn’t stay new for long. Good intentions don’t always last and no attempt at reaching a goal is perfect. The statistics tell us most people abandon their New Year’s Resolutions within a month. Life happens. Relationships and jobs begin and end. Loved ones come and go. For many, the gym membership goes mostly unused, and the books go mostly unread. I’ve sometimes found it difficult to enjoy the celebration when I know the temporary happiness won’t last and can only fuel enthusiasm for so long.
But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the New Year is a mile-marker, not a destination—a reminder. Life is full of hills and valleys, and it often feels like we’re living in the valley, trudging upward with an arm against the harsh wind and lashing rain to reach the peak. One of my pastors has said that we go to the mountaintop to see the big picture and be encouraged and empowered. But most days, we live in the valley, and we have to figure out how to take what we gained on the mountain into the valley with us. Because the truth is, most days are filled with little things, mundanities that make us wonder if this is all there is to life. Dishes and laundry have to be washed (and *gasp* put away). Stomachs have to be filled. Clocks have to be punched. And yet, even those little moments can be special and holy. The New Year can remind us in a big way that small, daily things matter.
This is where the recovery mantra “one day at a time” comes in. What we have in this moment is…this moment: the choices we make right now that, no matter how small, have the power to change our future into something we want rather than something we’ll regret. As C.S. Lewis once put it, “Each day we are becoming a creature of splendid glory or one of unthinkable horror.”
Lamentations 3:22-24 says, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’”
It doesn’t say His mercies are new every year. It says every morning. Each day is a new opportunity, each moment a new chance to do something different. And the hope we have for the future comes from Him.
The Serenity Prayer says we should “Liv(e) one day at a time, one moment at a time, accepting hardship as the pathway to peace.” Every second of my life, I can make a choice to put God and the things that please Him first and therefore grow in intimacy with my Creator. That doesn’t just mean singing praise songs or going to church on Sunday. It means taking care of my body, where His Spirit resides as a temple. It means honoring Him in my job by being a quality employee no matter the circumstance. It means doing creative things because He gave me those talents to steward.
I don’t mean to discount the New Year holiday when I say these things. After all, I’m publishing this blog post on New Year’s Day, my own attempt to start posting anew and regularly (again). If anything, I’m more excited for this New Year than many other New Years of the past. The New Year is a reminder of all that’s possible through Christ if I’m willing to be obedient and seek His face. It’s a reminder of the “countless second chances (I’ve) been given at the Cross” (to borrow a lyric from a Rend Collective song). It’s a time to be grateful for everything I learned in 2024 and look forward to the opportunities ahead of me this coming year.
I hope to do a lot of things this year: write more and post more regularly on this website, gain more wisdom and discernment by daily engaging with Scripture, read more books, and even experiment with minimalism. But these goals begin with one word at a time, one page at a time, one prayer at a time, and one donation box at a time. The big picture is before me, but it’s made of lots of tiny pieces that I have to pick up and handle before putting them in the right spot. That process can feel overwhelming, but if I keep my focus on the simplicity of the moment and what can be accomplished now, the big picture doesn’t loom so large.
If I fail at something on January 1, I can try again January 2. In many cases, actually, I can try again or fix the problem within minutes of failing. Every moment can be redeemed. A bad day can be made better. As one famous quote (attributed to various smart people) encourages, “You only fail if you give up.”
Failure has been one of my biggest fears in life. But the road to a better future is paved with both success and failure. Failure is part of the journey, and the journey itself is the destination because each destination is just a mile marker on a path to a new destination—just like each New Year. It took a lot of failing and a lot of pushing through the fog of emotional turmoil for me to realize that one of the main things it takes to succeed at something is learning from failure and continuing to press on. The possibility of failure isn’t something I should dread. Also, failure is often deceitful, telling us an untrue story about who we are.
This year, I choose to embrace the fact that I am a son of God, a citizen of Heaven, a temple of the Holy Spirit. As a disciple of Jesus, I’ve been tasked to proclaim the good news of freedom and redemption through His sacrifice and resurrection. I choose to walk forward in the knowledge that God loves me and those around me, and He seeks to transform me into a man who looks like Him, full of grace and truth. I hope and pray that the same sentiments can be said for you.