Live free, die hard. Hmmm, sounds prophetic.

I know what you're thinking, but you probably can't pull off the under-shirt to work look.

I heard a friend say she was going to join a gym in Februrary. Her reasoning seemed sound. Apparently, in January, gyms receive a lot of new business. Specifically, these gyms get a rush of people who have “resolved” that in the “new year” things will be different, and that this year they are going to start anew and get fit. But, as my friend explained, it takes only about three or four weeks before most of those people give up, which is why the gyms discount a lot of their rates, to keep people going. For whatever reason the whole idea impacted me – not because I am just about the most sedentary person in existence, but because it seemed to speak to something much deeper. That our worst points usually occur when we come full circle and find we’re exactly the same. One of my all-time favorite movie characters is John MacLean from Die Hard. MacLean, a New York City cop, flies to L.A. in hopes of reconciling with his wife, who, after earning a corporate promotion, has taken their children and started a new life without him. After landing in L.A. he is taken to his wife’s corporate headquarters where its annual Christmas gala is taking place. But before he even gets a chance to set things right with his estranged wife, a group of German terrorists lock down the building and take everyone hostage. (I know what you’re thinking, but it actually didn’t win an Oscar).

In the end love – err, his police-issue 9mm – conquers all and the day is saved. The movie ends with a Christmas song being played as millions of dollars in exploded negotiable bonds fall in pieces like snow flakes, with his wife in his arms, the terrorists all dead, and the entire city block destroyed. Anyone who has seen the Die Hard movies knows that John MacLean’s biggest shortcoming isn’t his use of deadly force, but the fact that no matter how much trauma he goes through in order to save his relationships, he invariably ruins them all. His wife leaves him and his daughter – in the most recent installment –resents him.

And then there is the question of how. How come after everything in a year, in a decade, through a rough time, I tend to come out the same? The apostle Paul said it this way in II Corinthians. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” I know that didn’t do much for you. I went to church my whole life and was told that very same thing in some way, shape or form every time I attended. But there’s a question to the question. Maybe we feel the same because we believe we’re the same. Maybe we know – in theory – that throughsome bizarre spiritual blood transfusion,Christ has taken over our hearts, but we don’t believe it. At all. I know the idea of a hostage takeover at Nakatomi Plaza is incredible and corny. But as Christians we’ve gone through something quite a bit more exciting, despite nothing even blowing up.

God’s Word tells us that his Son died on the Cross. Again I know. It didn’t do anything for you. But it’s true. That single culminating action erased everything we have ever thought we were, or are, and replaced it with the essence of God’s great love inside of us. We aren’t the same. How could we be? Moving forward spiritually is almost always like walking waist-deep in a river current that’s against you. And for that very reason it feels like you’re going the wrong way. But suppose where conflict is, God is also. In the gospel of Luke, Jesus says “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” When I first read those words it seemed harsh –like turn into a pillar of salt, harsh. But now they hold a new meaning. When we’re at a point where we feel we should stop, like things are getting too hard, we’re probably right where God wants us. Of course we’re not fit for the Kingdom when we look back, or wish we were somewhere else. The minute God’s Holy Spirit grabbed us by the scruff of the neck, we were no longer meant for spectating. It was time to work. It was time to move forward.

I’m not sure how I would do trying out a New Year’s resolution to hit the gym. Actually I do, it would go poorly. I can’t really recall the last time I was picked first when a field needed to be plowed, either. However, there’s something exhilarating in knowing that the inevitably rocky road that my life winds along, will be so for no other purpose than the slow and ultimate reminder that Christ, and Christ alone, is the sustainer of every one of my steps.