Tuesday, 3 January 2012


The way people act on New Year's Eve, a casual observer would assume that something absolutely awe-inspiring had happened. Somebody from another planet, if there are such beings, would be puzzled at the eruption of joy around the world since nothing but the date changes from year to year. The annual Times Square ritual is the most striking example of this.

I blogged before about one New Years Eve when Mom taught me that years have numbers when I was eight. The novelty of this discovery wore off soon when I found that the snow was just as deep and the air was just as cold outside my bedroom window on the first day of January as it had been the previous day.

A few years after I gave my life to Christ, I attended a house church that observed something called Watch Night Service. The leader often made predictions, much to the delight of his handful of loyal congregants. When the spell of this pseudo-prophet eventually wore off, I realized that his "revelations" were invariably wrong.

When I discarded my Christian beliefs for nine years, each first of January was like any other. I felt no reason to celebrate something as artificial as the changing of calendars. The only pleasant aspect for me was having a day off work.

My attitude about this passing of the years didn't change when I returned to Christ's fold in 1996. I still had the same problems and opportunities as always. All that changed for me was that I brought my concerns to the Lord in prayer rather than fuming about them to myself.

I still don't bother getting all excited about New Year's Day. I have my hopes, such as publishing How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity, and perhaps they won't be thwarted.

Even so, I've learned that I must find work-arounds for the difficulties I face. Like Christ admonished, I'll take things one day at a time since there's enough trouble at present. I'll let tomorrow worry about itself. This is good stress-busting advice for us all.

1 comment:

  1. I'm with you as far as the New Year is concerned. I don't know why people make so much of it. When I was in the seventh or eighth grade, my parents let my younger brother and me stay up to watch the ball drop in Times Square. When it did, they let us light sparklers in the house. It's a wonder we still had a home after that.

    This year, my husband Bill and I were asleep when January 1st 2012 arrived. We woke about twelve thirty, wished each other a happy New Year, cuddled, and went back to sleep.


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