It’s all about Embracing God’s Divine Promise of Renewal
In the gleaming verses of Isaiah 43:18-19, the ancient text extends an invitation that echoes across centuries—a summons to unshackle ourselves from the weight of memory and to fix our gaze upon the horizon of what is yet to be. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” These words resound like the first light of dawn, piercing the shadows of regret and nostalgia.
To heed this command is not simply to erase recollections, but to allow the gentle current of faith to carry us beyond the boundaries of what we have known. The human mind, ever intent on group joys and wounds alike, often clings to the comfort—or the sorrow—of what has been. Yet, in this scriptural exhortation, we are urged to loosen our grip, to release the old narratives that bind us, and to make space for the unimaginable.
Here, the divine voice does not merely ask for forgetfulness; it promises transformation. In the wilderness of uncertainty, a new path is being carved. In the deserts of despair, fresh rivers begin to flow. The call is clear: the future, shaped by the hands of the Almighty God who is not a repetition of the past but a painter preparing his canvas, which is awaiting new colors, new forms, and new wonders a new me, a new you.
This text challenges us to lay down the burdens of what we once were, or of what once was done to us. It invites us to trust—a trust not in our own ability to foresee the future, but in a higher wisdom orchestrating renewal in the most barren places. Faith, then, becomes an act of courage: to expect the unprecedented, to recognize the “new thing” even as it springs forth; it is a powerful message of hope and encouragement. God is tells us to forget about our past mishaps, our past mistakes our past downfalls and focus on what He is doing now. He is always doing something new and creating a path for us where there seems to be no way. We need to trust in Him, keep our eyes fixed on Him, and be open to where He is leading us.
In the pattern of faith and divinity, Isaiah’s words sparkle as a compass for all who journey onward and follow God. The clean slate is not emptiness, but possibility. The empty canvas is not a void, but an invitation to co-create with a God who knows all, sees all, and will guide us through our deserts, and we will witness the wonders of a great God that far exceed the stories of our past.
The idea of God doing something new strikes us with a wave of anticipation. What could be that astounding act, we wonder? The scripture offers a comforting whisper—the change has already set in! In that still small voice, you can hear God gently whispering to you, asking if you have witnessed His new thing yet. The context isn’t a drastic paradigm shift that shocks us from our contemplation, but a subtle, progressive transformation, happening right under our noses, yet distant to those that are unconscious. It’s a challenge to our observational skills, to notice and appreciate these subtle shifts that God brings our way.
In this light, the “new thing” God promises may not arrive with thunder or spectacle, but with the quiet insistence of blessing gently illuminating our lives. It is the gradual transformation of God doing something new in your life, the slow relaxing of your heart, because now the long tough disappointments of life is now turning into something new, something exiting. You can hear that still small voice of God, I am doing a new thing, can you not see it? For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? He is making a new pathway for you through the wilderness of life. Many times, we are often, so preoccupied with dramatic gestures and grand miracles that we overlook the everyday wonders—the gentle renewal in our relationships, the healing in our spirits, the opportunities that arise unexpectedly, yet fit perfectly into the unfolding story of our lives. God’s words invite us into a posture of attention and gratitude. They suggest that if we tune our senses, if we train our souls to discern the faint whisper of divine movement, we will witness the quiet revolution of grace at work. The “new thing” is not just an event, but a process—a steady, faithful unfolding in which God, ever-present and ever-creative, is already at work, inviting us to see, to perceive, to rejoice.
