Letting Go
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" —2 Corinthians 5:17.
The more I think about this verse, the more I realize that unless Paul lied, many of us have a serious problem with letting go.
One newly-minted Christian.
One new creation, fresh, clean, unblemished, pure, untouched, and a host of other words that could be used to describe "new creation."
Everything bad that was from before that moment of being reborn in Christ no longer exists.
Everything is brand, spanking, new.
If this is true, and Paul really didn't lie, exaggerate, or really mean the future tense even when he used the present, then why do we harbour the old even as we embrace the new?
The Scripture recounts one time when Jesus' first touch only produced partial healing (Mark 8:22-25). That passage has always puzzled me. How could Jesus' healing be incomplete? The story is of a blind man brought to the Lord for healing. Jesus spits on the man's eyes, touches him, and then asks if he can see. The man's reply? "I see people; they look like trees walking" (8:24). Jesus puts his hands on the man once more. The second time the healing is complete.
What happened? If it had anyone else we could claim a "power failure." But not in this case.
I always wondered if perhaps this man didn't want to let go of his blindness.
Like some people actually choose to harbour grudges, to remember wrongs done against them, to enjoy being victims, to fear being something they have never been before.
I believe that Paul was speaking seriously; that "new" really means just that, that my life begins from scratch again from the moment I receive Christ just as though what had happened before had never really been, and that all I have to do is allow God to haul the "old" away.
Clean.
Fresh.
Pure.
New.
My mother always said that it was easier to make a dress from scratch than to adjust one that was already made. She must have been talking to Paul, who I know had been talking to God.
The more I think about this verse, the more I realize that unless Paul lied, many of us have a serious problem with letting go.
One newly-minted Christian.
One new creation, fresh, clean, unblemished, pure, untouched, and a host of other words that could be used to describe "new creation."
Everything bad that was from before that moment of being reborn in Christ no longer exists.
Everything is brand, spanking, new.
If this is true, and Paul really didn't lie, exaggerate, or really mean the future tense even when he used the present, then why do we harbour the old even as we embrace the new?
The Scripture recounts one time when Jesus' first touch only produced partial healing (Mark 8:22-25). That passage has always puzzled me. How could Jesus' healing be incomplete? The story is of a blind man brought to the Lord for healing. Jesus spits on the man's eyes, touches him, and then asks if he can see. The man's reply? "I see people; they look like trees walking" (8:24). Jesus puts his hands on the man once more. The second time the healing is complete.
What happened? If it had anyone else we could claim a "power failure." But not in this case.
I always wondered if perhaps this man didn't want to let go of his blindness.
Like some people actually choose to harbour grudges, to remember wrongs done against them, to enjoy being victims, to fear being something they have never been before.
I believe that Paul was speaking seriously; that "new" really means just that, that my life begins from scratch again from the moment I receive Christ just as though what had happened before had never really been, and that all I have to do is allow God to haul the "old" away.
Clean.
Fresh.
Pure.
New.
My mother always said that it was easier to make a dress from scratch than to adjust one that was already made. She must have been talking to Paul, who I know had been talking to God.
Oh wow. Fascinating. Had never thought of it quite this way. Love that last paragraph - and the reminder that we truly ARE new.
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