Beyond New Beginnings: Finding Life in the Gospel of John
In progressive Christian circles like ours, the new year can be complicated terrain to navigate. We recognize January 1st as an artificial boundary, yet we still need these moments to mark time's passage and reflect on our wins and losses. Many of us have given up on traditional resolutions, burned by past disappointments or wary of setting ourselves up for failure. We walk a delicate line between healthy aspirations for better habits and the crushing weight of perfectionism, between hope and cynicism, between zealously trying everything and fearfully attempting nothing.
The Irish poet and philosopher John O'Donohue offers a profound insight about new beginnings that has shaped my thinking: "Perhaps beginnings make us anxious because we did not begin ourselves. Others begin us. Our very life here depends directly on continuous acts of beginning. But these beginnings are out of our hands." This is true of our breathing, our heartbeat, our very existence. Beginning precedes us and creates us.
As people of faith, this might be one of the most important truths we can hold at the start of a new year: genuine new beginning is out of our hands. It is gift and grace, and it has already come. This can be as scary as it is liberating.
To explore this truth more deeply, I've been drawn to the Gospel of John, whose very structure assumes a new beginning has already occurred in Jesus. John's gospel stands unique among the four gospels, distinctly different from Matthew, Mark, and Luke in its timeline, plot, and emphasis on Jesus's extended discourses rather than short parables.
During my formation in evangelical circles, John was always the recommended gospel for new believers. I never questioned why until recently, but I suspect it's because John portrays Jesus unmistakably as the sent one from God. The language is unambiguous: "I am the light," "I am the bread of life," "I am the way and the truth and the life." There's no escaping what theologians call a "high Christology" - a view of Jesus that emphasizes his divinity.
In progressive circles, we tend to be more comfortable emphasizing Jesus's humanity. Perhaps because it helps us sidestep thorny questions about what Jesus means in our complicated, multicultural, multi-religious world. Focusing on Jesus's humanity can feel safer, less controversial.
But as we enter a year that promises numerous challenges for those of us living in Washington, D.C., I sense a call for our community to be deeply rooted in Jesus. We need faith that goes beyond surface-level engagement, and I believe John's gospel provides exactly the guidance we need.
The prologue of John (1:1-18) doesn't begin with nativity narratives or John the Baptist's ministry. Instead, it makes the audacious claim that the Word began outside of history and then entered it. Using the exact same Greek phrases as the Septuagint's version of Genesis ("in the beginning"), John suggests that Jesus's coming represents nothing less than new creation itself.
While there's profound theological depth in this passage, I want to focus on one crucial element: its invitation to believe. Verse 12 states, "But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God." This theme of believing echoes throughout John's gospel and forms its stated purpose (John 20:31). Importantly, when John uses the word "believe," it's always active - never static belief but always believing, an ongoing process. It's not a passive intellectual exercise but an energetic participation in Jesus's life. Artist and author Scott Erickson captures this brilliantly when he says, "Nothing can truly be known through observation, only through participation."
This reminds me of the pivotal scene in Good Will Hunting where Robin Williams's character, Sean, confronts Matt Damon's Will on the park bench. Sean realizes that Will, despite his genius-level knowledge, has only observed life from a distance. Will could describe Michelangelo's work in detail but couldn't tell you how the Sistine Chapel smelled. He could recite love poetry but couldn't speak to the experience of waking up beside someone day after day, knowing you're truly loved.
This is what John's gospel invites us into - not mere observation but genuine participation in Jesus's life. As we begin this new year, walking that fine line between healthy desires for growth and the compulsion toward perfectionism, I want to challenge you to commit to intentional participation in Jesus's way. If you've fallen into merely observing - whether from exhaustion, cynicism, or overwhelming questions - consider how you might begin to participate again. You don't need to embrace every spiritual practice or join every small group. Start with one small step to enliven your believing, to move from observation to participation. Something far more profound than the smell of the Sistine Chapel awaits.
As we journey through John's gospel in the coming weeks, we'll explore what it means to be rooted in Jesus's way of being in the world. We'll discover how this ancient text speaks to our modern longings for authentic spirituality and meaningful change. Most importantly, we'll learn to trust that the new beginning we seek has already been given - we need only participate in it.
About the Author: Rev. Tonetta Landis-Aina serves as co-pastor at The Table Church in Washington, DC, where she focuses on fostering authentic community and thoughtful engagement with progressive Christianity.
