God Delights in New Beginnings

I saved up my money. I purchased skeins of luxuriously soft yarn in beautiful shades. I had the perfect pattern, a beautiful, lacy shawl. Since I’m a fairly experienced fiber artist, this crochet project didn’t appear to be difficult. Yet as I worked the beginning rows, I was struggling. Often, a fiber artist needs to work the pattern a few times to get the rhythm of the stitches and then her fingers can fly. But rather than becoming easier as I went, this pattern became increasingly difficult. I could not get the hang of it. The rows that were supposed to repeat looked anything but identical. In frustration, I shoved the whole wad of yarn into my project bag and stomped off.

That project could have sat there until my kids found it while cleaning out my craft stash decades from now. Or I could do the dreaded “un-crocheting” or, as fiber artists call it, “frogging.” (Because we have to “rip it,” similar to the ribbit sound that frogs make.) I frogged and frogged, all the way down to the very first loop.

With that pile of yarn spilled at my feet, no longer in a neat and tidy skein, I slowly and carefully read the instructions for row 1 again. Then, stitch by achingly slow stitch, I crafted that first row the right way. I turned my work. I began row 2. And then row 3. I took breaks. I reviewed the instructions repeatedly. And a beautiful, lacy shawl, made of turquoise alpaca fiber, began to appear out of that tangled pile of yarn.

God is all about new beginnings. Time and time again, the Old Testament tells us of the Israelites making new beginnings in new lands or with new leaders. (Isaiah 43:18-19 MSG) The prophet Isaiah has been given a vision for the future of God’s people and is calling them toward a new beginning. Isaiah is telling them of the coming Savior, urging them to look forward with hope.

We like to think of new beginnings as clean and fresh, like a brand-new notebook. But more often, new beginnings are messy. When we move to a new house, or even simply rearrange furniture in our current home, the process is messy. It always looks worse before it gets better. That pile of yarn became tangled into knots before I had it crocheted into that lacy shawl. It was a mess before it was magnificent. Messes can be intimidating; we may even be fearful of making messes. But that fear can stop new beginnings from ever happening.

A pastor friend of mine led his church through a large building project, a brand-new building in a new location. The very first Sunday, he stood up on the freshly carpeted altar area and poured the contents his coffee cup on that brand-new carpet. The congregation gasped collectively in horror. Then he smiled at them all and said, “See! I made a mess. It was me, the first one to mess up your new church. Now we can use this building and not worry about making the first mess. If we do it right, there will be plenty of glorious messes from now on.” Just like that, he gave his congregation permission to put people before furnishings.

God delights in messy new beginnings. Again, he spoke through the prophet Isaiah saying, “Pay close attention now: I’m creating new heavens and a new earth. All the earlier troubles, chaos, and pain are things of the past, to be forgotten. Look ahead with joy. Anticipate what I’m creating: I’ll create Jerusalem as sheer joy, create my people as pure delight. I’ll take joy in Jerusalem, take delight in my people.” (Isa. 65:17-19 MSG)

2020 may have been unexpected: broken plans, goals put on hold, broken relationships, lost jobs or homes or loved ones. You may be fearing that 2021 will be more of the same. Jesus promised his disciples—and us—“I’ve told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I’ve conquered the world.” (John 16:32-33 MSG)

Creating something new out of chaos and mess is God’s specialty. Bring him your broken bits and pieces, and he will make something new. It may be messy; the yarn of your life may be in knots in a pile at your feet. But God is tenderly and carefully making something new. He is making a road through the desert. He is making rivers in the badlands. Look ahead with joy. Anticipate his goodness.

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 © Steve Johnson, used with permission