
I've always had a strange feeling about New Year's Eve.
As a child we celebrated some curious rituals from a bygone age on New Years' Eve. As the youngest, I was regularly sent out the back door with a lump of coal and a sixpence in my pocket, only to be admitted in the front door after the chimes had struck midnight. It was cold, lonely and a little bit scary being stuck outside on a freezing night.
And I will never forget the time at my Auntie's home in Rochdale, when the "mummers" showed up - with blackened faces, and strange clothes, they dusted the furniture making a humming noise to clean out the old year, and bring in the new. I still have nightmares...
But later on, particularly when working at my Father's pub in Bury in the North of England, I could never quite see the point of it. People going mad and getting "very happy" and then a snog fest as Big Ben chimed its 12th. "What precisely are they celebrating?" I thought. End of a bad year? Celebrating a great year? Looking forward to next year? Another year closer to old age, infirmity and death?
Perhaps I was being too reflective and people were simply thinking: "any excuse for a party".
But the gospel changes our perspectives not only on how we spend New Year's Eve, but what we think about the year that has gone and the year to come.
So whatever you are doing this year - whether it is dancing the night away with friends, or sat quietly at home - make it a joyful celebration of God's grace and goodness towards you now and for always.