Tick, Tock . . . Groan
The tick of the clock groans, as the old year runs out of time. I echo its groaning. As does all of creation—as it awaits its deliverance . . . redemption. Can a year possibly be more tired . . . broken? I have never been more happy to see a new year dawn! Think of it: a fresh year, with new mercies—like each new day, I suppose. So, isn’t it then just a continuation? Hasn’t God numbered all our days? As much as we may want to put distance between us and last year—with all its