The first thing that he became aware of was floating. He couldn’t see, yet he was comfortable in his surroundings. Everything was dark but cozy. He was warm. As time went on he heard noise. He was shaken as well. Somehow he was fed. He grew. As he grew he became uncomfortable. He felt enclosed which made him aware of his legs, his arms. As he grew more, his discomfort became intense. Stretching was impossible. He fought to extend unsuccessfully. He grew still more. Something had to give. It did. He was released on July 7th. His first act was a sharp inhalation in response to a swift slap on his bottom. His cry confirmed new life had come. Internal construction and constriction were gone. A new wineskin.
He saw her face on July 7th exactly 20 years to the day after he was born. He immediately felt uncomfortable in her presence. And thereafter experienced pain whenever he was away from her. He couldn’t shake it and didn’t want to shake it. Before he knew her name, he knew they’d be together. A he with no grid for anything else became a we. A new wineskin.
On July 7th on their third anniversary, he sat at a lunch table at the park when Katie told him their daughter was coming. He immediately felt uncomfortable but managed to bleat out “that’s wonderful honey.” He wasn’t prepared for what he knew was coming fast – a couple becoming a tribe and likely a zoo. He was beginning to understand that every one of his transitions was preceded by discomfort – the stretching, the preparation – otherwise the new would burst the old – his old way of thinking. A new wineskin.
On July 7th exactly 10 years after Gracie was born, he sat again at that same lunch table and listened to a friend explain the gospel to him. He had heard it many times before but today he heard it – it sunk in. He was in distress, in discomfort. His old life was both happy and terrible. He knew what he was being offered: a new life for an old one. He said yes. A hand reached out and touched his heart. A new wineskin.
On July 7th, 12 years after the last lunch table meeting, he felt change coming again. He had known something was up. In the middle of a wonderful life, a discomfort that couldn’t be explained, lingered. He wanted more but he didn’t know what “more” was. He took a long weekend and went to a friend’s cabin, expecting an encounter. He wasn’t disappointed. The Holy Spirit introduced Himself on day two asking, “what took you so long?” A new wineskin.
On July 7th that next year he and Katie found themselves drawn into community. The discomfort came again. But only briefly, and now they were familiar with it. And with it came expectancy. They had been two puzzle pieces not knowing where they fit. Now they found their place in the bigger picture. A new wineskin.
On June 7th one month prior to his 83rd birthday, another change. Katie and the kids were there with him. He saw a crack in his bedroom and through it, faintly, heaven in the distance. He told no one but Katie knew. This time no discomfort, only love. A new wineskin.
On July 5th a year later, he watched Katie slowly focus her eyes to her new surroundings. “The flowers are prettier here just like you told me in the dream,” she said. He stepped out of the way to let her see face to face the true beauty – the one her soul loved. A new wineskin.
Matthew 9:17: Neither do people pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins will burst; the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved.”