Ahead or back?

Ezra reminds me of many Christians I know. But at least he has an excuse. He's not quite 1 year old.

One of the most fun-and-fascinating aspects of grandparenthood—at lease where babies are concerned, which is the limit of my experience—is observing all the changes that take place from visit to visit. Each time, it's almost like getting acquainted with a brand-new child.

Ezra and his mama, Lindsay, have been at our house for a few days. This is Ezra's first trip to Jody and Marvo's since he got the hang of crawling. Now, he scoots practically everywhere. I'd forgotten the tedious nature of baby-proofing a house in the two decades since his Aunt Molly crawled our floors.

Since he's been with us, I've had nothing better to do than hang out with Ezra. Come to think of it, what could be better than playing in the floor with my grandson?

New tricks, one pattern

Ezra learns new tricks by the hour, and he never ceases to amaze me. But he's been following one pattern consistently: When he wriggles through a door, he stops, sits up and looks back. You can watch his face and see the little wheels turn. Sometimes, he decides to crawl back into the room he just left. Other times—especially if he just entered the kitchen and the dishwasher is open—he squirts dead ahead across the floor.

Although they don't get down on their hands and knees, and their domain is temporal rather than geographic, grownups often mimic Ezra's behavior.

We cross from one point in life to another, and we stall out. We sit and swivel, staring back to the past and then glancing toward the future. Something in our past—perhaps regret or shame or remorse, or maybe even joy and delight and fondness—keeps capturing our attention. We can't decide if we want to forge ahead or turn back.

Only one choice

Unlike Ezra, of course, our choice is not viable. We can sit and stagnate. We can long for the past, obsess on it, refuse to get over it. But we cannot return. 

Problem is, if we fail to face the future, we ensure that we won't appreciate it. We won't embrace all its possibilities and potential. And it will diminish before our eyes, just as we ourselves diminish.

Ezra reminded me of all this when he stopped in the doorway between our den and kitchen, plopped on his little padded bottom and looked back at his toys. Newspaper, TV and magazine commentators supplemented that observation as they opined about 2011 and prognosticated about 2012.

Christians fail to fulfill our calling if we, like Lot's wife, look back in longing. We must appreciate the past and learn from it. But we cannot go back. We adopt the Apostle Paul's purpose as our own: "Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:13-14).

2012 lies ahead. Let's make all we can of it for the glory of God and for the sake of Jesus' kingdom.