Do You Want a Do-Over?

Foursquare was the game to play at recess at my elementary school. Four squares of sidewalk in a box shape and a red rubber ball were all we needed for a rousing game. When the ball landed on the line or there was uncertainty whether it was in or out, we would argue for a while, but then someone would always shout the magic words, “Do-over!”

A do-over is a second chance to get it right.

It was exactly what some over-excited kids with only a half-hour to play needed, a chance to do it over.

One of my friends joked the other day, “I can’t believe I spent all that money on a planner. I only used the January and February pages!” Another said, “Yeah, my five-year plan from 2015 didn’t look like this!”

No one could have seen how drastically our world would change—and continue to change.

I, for one, am calling “Do-over!” I’d like to start 2020 over.

Starting over isn’t just a twenty-first century, global pandemic problem. Human beings throughout history have demanded a do-over.

Look at the Israelites in Exodus after Moses rescued them from the violent oppression of slavery. As they wandered in the wilderness, free for the first time in generations, they complained bitterly, “If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death” (Exodus 16:3 NIV).

The Israelite people had been brought forth from bondage, but instead of rejoicing in their do-over, they begged Moses to restore what they thought of as normal. A nomadic lifestyle was not what they had in mind when they raced away from Egyptian oppression.

The story of David and Saul in first and second Samuel was fraught with chances for do-overs. David was anointed king before Saul relinquished the throne. Saul found out and sent men to kill him. David was forced to flee and hide. I can imagine him saying to God, “What is going on? I thought I was supposed to be king? This is nothing like I had planned. I want a do-over!”

David did get his do-over. He got many of them. He made mistakes and repented and tried again. And God called David “a man after my own heart” (Acts 13:22 NIV).

The disciples certainly wanted a do-over after the shock and horror of the trial and crucifixion of Jesus. Peter, who had just bragged that he would die for Jesus hours earlier, denied even knowing him three different times on the night he died. I can imagine the disciples huddled together, weeping. This was not what they had planned, nor what they had been promised. Jewish tradition taught that the Messiah would come with power and might and rescue them from oppression. The disciples and all of the Jews were expecting a king with military might who would slay their enemies and lead them triumphantly into power.

Acts 2 records that the disciples finally emerged from their hiding place and into the public. And at first, the public accused them of being drunk. Can you just picture this bewildered band Jesus followers looking at one another, wondering who will step up and defend them? Peter was the one; of course he was. Peter, I imagine, cleared his throat and maybe stuttered a bit as he began to preach the first sermon after the death of Jesus. He quoted David’s words of comfort from Psalm 16: “I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body will also rest secure, because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead, nor will you let your faithful one see decay. You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand” (Psalm 16:8-11 MSG).

Peter used David’s words to call a first-century do-over. Like David, he didn’t know what that would look like, but with eyes fixed on Jesus, he would not be shaken. I love that Peter stepped forward from a place of fear and trembling and said to the world, “Do-over.”

I have no idea what the rest of 2020 will look like for me, my family, or my community. We all have more questions and theories than we do answers. But instead of giving in like the Israelites and begging to go back to what I thought was normal, I am calling a do-over. I will take those first trembling steps purely on faith. Maybe Peter’s knees were knocking with trepidation and uncertainty like mine? I’d like to think so.

Like Peter, I am claiming David’s words as my own. I am calling a do-over.

Annie Carlson is rooted like a turnip to the plains of North Dakota where she raises great food, large numbers of farm animals, and three free-range kids with her husband. You can find her with either a book or knitting needles in her hands as she dreams up her next adventure.

Photograph © Jessica Lewis, used with permission