Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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Archives for January 2025

On Sound Speech, Part 7 

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 

Gentleness 

Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear (1P 3.15). 

Here the KJV uses the word meekness. Outside of Christian circles, influenced by the biblical language, our culture doesn’t use the word much. When we hear it, some are inclined to think of Casper Milquetoast, or a hen-pecked husband, or the guy the bullies kick sand on at the beach. 

But if you’ve spent much time hearing sermons in church, you probably know that the biblical word means something very different from that. Meekness is strength tempered by gentleness; it’s power under control. It’s the weightlifter gently cradling his infant child in his arms; it’s the firefighter gently rescuing the kitten from the tree. It’s Jesus being moved by the sight of a widow escorting the body of her only son to his tomb, and saying to himself, “This will not stand!”—and then mightily raising the boy to life again and returning him to his mother. 

Moses was meek, the veritable champion of meekness (Nu 12.3), yet he killed an Egyptian taskmaster and buried his corpse in the desert (Ex 2.11-12). He stood up to a group of bullies so that some young women could access a well to water their father’s flock (Ex 2.16-17). He led 2 million or so complaining Israelites—and Egyptian hangers-on—through 40 years of wandering in the wilderness after representing them before the God of heaven on Mount Sinai. 

Moses was no pushover. 

And his strength wasn’t always controlled; there was that Egyptian taskmaster, and there was also a time when he struck a rock in anger (Nu 20.7-12), thereby disqualifying himself from entrance into the Promised Land—at least until Jesus gave him a special invitation (Mt 17.3). 

It’s possible to speak powerfully, yet meekly, and without sin. Someone asks us about the reason for our hope, and we can speak powerful words, but with an attitude that doesn’t drive him away unnecessarily. 

Note that Peter here combines meekness with fear. Why the connection? I’d suggest that fear—respect—will encourage meekness. Of course, if we fear God, we’re going to represent him truthfully, reflecting, insofar as we can, his gentle character. And if we respect the person we’re answering, we won’t push him around, cut him off, or otherwise act toward him in ways inappropriate for someone in the image of God. 

We don’t live in a gentle age. And because we don’t, gentleness will stand out against the chaotic social and cultural background. 

Be the gentle one. 

Genuineness 

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh (Mt 12.34 // Lk 6.45). 

We should speak from our hearts. But that’s not really the point here: we all do indeed speak from our hearts, and that’s the source of a lot of our problems. 

Your words demonstrate what you are on the inside; they paint a picture of the real you. And to the extent that the real us isn’t consistent with the characteristics of sound speech that we’ve been considering, we’re our own worst enemy. 

In Part 4 of this series we talked about truthfulness. What we say ought to be the truth, and thus it ought to be an accurate, genuine reflection of who we are. 

And that means that in order to speak soundly, we need to be healed from the inside out. We need to be regenerated, to be brought from spiritual death to spiritual life. 

What I’m describing, of course, is what the Bible calls salvation, or justification, or conversion. I hope that you have entered that gate; if not, I hope you will—and if I can help you with that, please let me know. 

No judgment. 

But until then, you won’t be able to engage consistently in sound speech. 

Even after conversion, this is a growing process; I’m not there yet, and neither are you. 

But with time, improvement comes. May we all speak consistently with our heart, and in edifying ways as well. 

A bit more to think about, in one last post.

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On Sound Speech, Part 6 

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 

Thankfully 

We live under the shadow of God’s providence—his provision, his direction, his protection. All of our life springs from that truth. So when we speak to him, we should speak thankfully. 

And when we speak to others, we should speak thankfully as well, because their presence in our lives, and the things their presence supplies, are all acts of God’s providence too. 

1 Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; 2 And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour. 3 But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints; 4 Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient: but rather giving of thanks (Ep 5.1-4). 

Recognition of God’s care for us will make us thankful for the care of others. Thankful to God, and thankful to them—and thankful enough to be inclined to express that thankfulness verbally. Thankful enough not to undercut their joy with “filthiness, [or] foolish talking, [or] jesting.” 

It’s worth noting here that the prohibition of “jesting” doesn’t mean we shouldn’t tell jokes or comment on funny things. That word is talking about so-called “locker-room talk”: crude or coarse or obscene speech. It makes no sense to talk that way to people we’re thankful for. As noted earlier, we’re called to build others up, not tear them down. 

Blessing 

Several passages speak of the importance of blessing, rather than cursing, with our words. 

9 Therewith [i.e, with the tongue] bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God. 10 Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be (Jam 3.9-10). 

Not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing: but contrariwise blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing (1P 3.9). 

Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not (Ro 12.14). 

Of course, this idea derives from the principle of edification; cursing doesn’t build people up. 

We live in a hostile age. A great many people are angry at those who disagree with them, and they feel free to express that anger frankly and publicly on social media. In a sense that’s not new; people have always been angry at those who disagree with them, but it hasn’t always been possible for pretty much anybody to be his own publisher. A generation or two ago, people used the privacy of their cars to cuss out other drivers in ways they would never do to their faces. The spirit of cursing has always been with us. (I should note, I suppose, that by “cursing” here I don’t mean using bad language; I mean the opposite of blessing.) 

What does it take for us to be speakers of blessing rather than cursing? 

Well, to start with, it means we have to pay attention—to notice the good things in others, and not just the good things they do for us (we’ve already mentioned thankfulness), but all their good qualities. We need to pay closer attention to those around us than we do to our own interests, of whatever sort. 

It also means that we need to speak up about those things. For some of us that means overcoming shyness; for others it means getting serious instead of just joshing people all the time. 

Sometimes, for the sort of blessing that is more appropriate in private, we need to seek out private time with the person in order to deliver that message—as a teacher, for example, I can’t comment on a student’s academic performance in front of other students. But very often, we ought to consider speaking that blessing publicly, so others will hear it, and so the person we’re blessing will know that others have heard it. 

Dale Carnegie didn’t invent this idea; it comes straight from the Bible. 

Yet more next time. 

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On Sound Speech, Part 5  

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

How else can we speak like God? 

Lovingly 

That we henceforth be no more children, … but speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things (Ep 4.14-15). 

We’re inclined to speak in ways that benefit ourselves. We want to win the argument. We want to defend our choices. We want to tell a good story—better than the other guy’s—and be the center of attention. 

Now, there’s nothing wrong with a good story. Jesus told good stories. In fact the whole Bible is basically one really good story, augmented with insights from prophets and poets and letter-writers  along the way that give greater depth to the central narrative. One of the great joys in life is to go to a family reunion and listen to the stories we all can tell. 

But sometimes we just want to tell a better story than the one the other guy just told. “You think that’s cool? Well, once I …” 

Why not just let the other guy enjoy the group’s response to his story? Why do we need to beat it? 

We should speak in love. That means we should seek to add to the grace and peace, and joy, of the ones we’re speaking to, aiming at their growth rather than our advancement. Our goal should not be to promote ourselves, or to defend ourselves, or to otherwise advance ourselves. 

A companion thought to this is the goal that we’re lovingly seeking in the other. Paul writes later in the same epistle, 

Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers (Ep 4.29). 

We ought to speak edifyingly; we ought to speak in ways that build up the ones we’re speaking to. We ought to leave them better for having heard us speak. 

We all have casual conversations, small talk. We all laugh at silly things together. Not every conversation needs to be serious or deep. But there ought to be times when we teach and encourage one another, when we “exhort one another to love and good works” (He 10.24). And there should never be times when our words tear someone down. 

Does God speak lovingly? Does he build us up with his words? Well, we’re told, he is love. He speaks compassionately, encouragingly, with words of grace and hope. 

Sure, sometimes he speaks hard words. But he does so in ways that he, the all-knowing one, knows will bring us out to a good end. Without his omniscience, we need to speak more—what’s the word? Carefully? Tentatively? Safely? 

None of those words seem quite right. But one thing is sure: we need to speak more lovingly than we do. We need to edify one another. 

Biblically 

We’ve been in Ephesians for the previous point. In Paul’s sister epistle to Ephesians, he writes, 

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord (Co 3.16). 

When we consider this verse, we typically focus on the musical part, the singing and the psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. And that’s what the verse is about. But I’d suggest that this is still a “speech code,” since singing is largely a melodic type of talking. And he begins the verse by sourcing our words in “the word of Christ.” 

Some Christian sects believe they should sing only psalms, words that are directly biblical. I don’t see the Scripture as limiting our singing in that way, though I do see those sects, all else being equal, as my Christian brothers and sisters. 

This passage does say, though, that our songs should be solidly biblical. We ought to remind one another of the word and exhort one another to believe and follow it. 

I see no reason why that shouldn’t apply to our non-melodic (spoken) words as well. 

And to talk that way, we need to have minds imbued with God’s words. We need to have read the Scripture, meditated on it, memorized it, and thought through applications, so that those applications flow naturally through our speech. 

We can do better than we do. 

There’s lots more. See you next time. 

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On Sound Speech, Part 4 

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

We’ve surveyed how God speaks. Should we seek to speak in similar ways? And if so, specifically how? 

Let me start with the “should we?” question. 

Back to the beginning.  

This God, who created so much simply by speaking, goes to another level when he makes Adam. On Day Six, after all that speaking things into existence, he stops speaking, and he gets out of his chair, so to speak, and he kneels in the clay outside Eden—this is the Son, remember (Jn 1.1-3; He 1.2)—and he fashions from the clay a recumbent statue that looks like him. And he bends over that lifeless statue and breathes life into it. And Adam pinks up; he is alive.  

And he is, as God had planned, in the very image of God.  

And we, Adam’s billions of descendants, are in God’s image too.  

Further, when God placed us in Christ—when we repented and believed and were justified freely by his grace—God began to enable us to be in his image in much more powerful and effective ways. God, through his Spirit, began to conform us, slowly, steadily, surely into the image of his Son (2Co 3.18)—and to empower us to imitate him genuinely and delightfully.  

And so we find that we too can speak truth, and justly, and rightly. We too can speak and see good things happen.  

And now for the “how?” question. The New Testament gives us specific guidance on how we are able to speak well, by the grace of God and the power of his Spirit. Let me marshal some examples. 

Thinkingly 

James tells us that everyone should be “swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath” (Jam 1.19). God speaks that way, because he’s like that. That means we shouldn’t shoot our mouths off. First we should listen long enough to know what we’re talking about. (Of course, God, as omniscient, doesn’t need to listen first in order to understand something. But he’s still slow to wrath.) 

A few verses later James tells us to “bridle” our tongues (Jam 1.26); he even says that the person who doesn’t do that has “vain [empty, meaningless]” religion. And later in his epistle he speaks of the tongue as unbridled, untamable (Jam 3.8); consider carefully the entire context (Jam 3.1-12), and note his words about meekness and strife in the following paragraph (Jam 3.13-18). 

Well. Taming the untamable. That’s a lot to work on, but the grace of God is sufficient (2Co 12.9). And it needs to be, because there’s a lot more. 

Truthfully 

25 Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour: for we are members one of another (Ep 4.25). 

We ought to tell the truth. All the time. God does. 

Now, some might observe that in context Paul is writing of relationships between believers, within the body of Christ. But that’s arguable; he’s talking about “putting off the old man” (Ep 4.22), including “stealing no more” (Ep 4.28). It would be absurd to suggest that it’s okay to steal from, or to lie to, nonbelievers. 

Now, this raises a question. Do we always speak “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth”? I’d suggest that guiding our everyday conversation by that common legal oath is problematic, especially in the phrase “the whole truth.” First, I note that God doesn’t tell us everything, and I see no obligation on us to tell anybody else “everything.” If the baby is not in fact the most beautiful baby ever born (as my children and grandchild most certainly are), you can rejoice with the new parents in the wonder of birth and the delights of children without flat-out lying. 

And, not surprisingly, the Scripture gives us further guidance on how we can do that. We’ll look further in the next post. 

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On Sound Speech, Part 3

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And now, in the New Testament, God speaks in a way he never has before. 

He speaks in person, visibly, incarnately, powerfully. 

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 The same was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4 In him was life; and the life was the light of men. 5 And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not (Jn 1.1-5). 

Later in that prologue his claim is even more explicit: 

14 And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. … 18 No man hath seen God at any time; the only begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared [lit., exegeted] him” (Jn 1.14-18). 

With this change, God speaks through his incarnate, eternally human Son.  

I should take a moment, I suppose, to deal with a possible objection to what I’ve just claimed. 

There are many, including me, who believe that “the Angel of Yahweh” in the Old Testament is a preincarnate appearance of God the Son. If this idea is correct, then God did indeed speak “visibly” in the Old Testament, even appearing to be incarnate; as just one example, he appears to Abraham as one of three men walking down a road past Abraham’s tent, and he eats a meal with him (Ge 18.1-8)—and by the end of their conversation it’s clear that Abraham understands that he’s speaking face to face with God himself (Ge 18.22-33). But the angel is not directly presented in the Old Testament as God himself; what John is claiming in the prologue of his Gospel is qualitatively different. 

To verify that the Son is the perfect expression of God—the Logos—the Father twice speaks from heaven, once at Jesus’ baptism: 

And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased (Mt 3.17). 

and a second time at his Transfiguration: 

and behold a voice out of the cloud, which said, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him (Mt 17.5). 

Perhaps 30 years after the Son returns to the Father in heaven, an anonymous author explains what has happened:  

1 God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, 2 Hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; 3 Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high; 4 Being made so much better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they (He 1.1-4). 

And finally, our friend John tells us that at the end of time God speaks again: 

6 And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely. 7 He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son (Re 22.6-7). 

When God speaks, he speaks the truth. He speaks justly. He speaks rightly. And good things happen.  

Sure, sometimes he speaks in judgment. But even then—perhaps especially then—he speaks truth, and he speaks justly, and he speaks rightly. 

We’ve engaged in this survey to summarize how God speaks, and specifically to consider following his example, to the extent that we are able, in our own speech. We’ll turn to that next time. 

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On Sound Speech, Part 2 

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Part 1 

We’re looking at God’s speech as a model for our own. The previous post ended with God speaking of delivering his people Israel from their Egyptian taskmasters, and of his keeping that promise through the plagues. 

After crossing the Red Sea—miraculously—Israel travels to Mount Sinai, where they will meet God and receive the Law of Moses. 

And God spake all these words, saying, 2 I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage (Ex 20.1-2). 

And here come the Ten Commandments, a constitution for the new nation. For the next forty years, God talks to Moses as he wishes, and he talks to him in a special way.  

The Lord talked with [Moses] face to face in the mount out of the midst of the fire (Dt 5.4). 

Face to face, without distance, without danger. 

As we know, those forty years were a judgment in response to Israel’s unbelief. But God is faithful, even when his people are not, and he brings them to the Promised Land and empowers their victory over the perverse peoples living in it. 

Centuries pass. Israel is now well settled into the Land, after initially living in houses they didn’t build and eating from gardens they didn’t plant. And when they want a king, God gives them the king he had long ago promised them. David, the man after God’s own heart, the sweet singer of Israel, sets the nation off on a course toward prosperity and peace—and at the end of his life he reveals where his sweet songs came from: 

1 Now these be the last words of David.  
David the son of Jesse said,  
And the man who was raised up on high,  
The anointed of the God of Jacob,  
And the sweet psalmist of Israel, said,  
2 The Spirit of the Lord spake by me,  
And his word was in my tongue.  
3 The God of Israel said,  
The Rock of Israel spake to me,  
He that ruleth over men must be just,  
Ruling in the fear of God.  
4 And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth,  
Even a morning without clouds;  
As the tender grass springing out of the earth  
By clear shining after rain (2S 23.1-4). 

After David and his son Solomon come other kings, mostly evil ones, and God, graciously, speaks once again, this time through prophets.  

Therefore thus saith the Lord God,  
Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone,  
A tried stone, a precious corner stone, a sure foundation:  
He that believeth shall not make haste (Is 28.16). 

More prophets come, for three more centuries, bringing words from God, calling God’s people to truth, to righteousness, to justice, to peace. But for the most part, the people don’t listen. There are two periods of exile and a return, and then more self-centered living.  

 And after that, silence.  

 Four centuries of silence.  

 God does not speak.  

 And all the light and wisdom and truth and direction and power that consistently come when he speaks—are missing. They’re not there.  

 Silence from God is not a good thing.  

 When will he speak again?  

 When will we know what we so desperately need to know?  

Oh, he will speak again, and he will speak in a way that he never has before. 

Next time.

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On Sound Speech, Part 1

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Do you have trouble with your mouth? 

I do. And I always have. Since birth.  

Really. 

There are few things worse than saying something that you regret, whether immediately or eventually. 

How should we then speak? 

I’d like to take a few posts to meditate on that. 

And I’d like to begin by considering someone who speaks, and who speaks well. 

The Bible begins with a speech act: 

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. 2 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. 3 And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. 4 And God saw the light, that it was good (Ge 1.1-4). 

God spoke, and something good happened. As the chapter continues, he continues to speak, every utterance bringing things—good things—into existence, and by the end of the chapter God declares everything he has spoken, and thus created, to be “very good” (Ge 1.31). 

A few generations later, God speaks to Noah, whom he has closed up in the Ark, and tells him to leave the ship that has been his shelter for the past year: 

15 And God spake unto Noah, saying, 16 Go forth out of the ark, thou, and thy wife, and thy sons, and thy sons’ wives with thee. 17 Bring forth with thee every living thing that is with thee, of all flesh, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth; that they may breed abundantly in the earth, and be fruitful, and multiply upon the earth (Ge 8.15-17). 

Here the earth thrives with new life—a second chance at life, if you will—after a devastating judgment. God speaks, and good things happen. 

But God is not done. He’s going to choose a people to bless in a special way, with a universal outcome: 

Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto a land that I will shew thee: 2 And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing: 3 And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed (Ge 12.1-3). 

And so he does. But within just three generations Abraham’s descendants will be out of the Land, and decades later they will be slaves in Egypt—but they will have grown to 2 million strong.  

And God will see the suffering of his people, and he will remember his promises to Abraham, and he will find Moses on the west side of the Arabian desert and speak once again, this time from a burning bush: 

7 And the Lord said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows; 8 And I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey (Ex 3.7-8). 

And he does deliver them, with a series of spectacular plagues that demonstrate that all the gods of Egypt are just papyrus tigers. And he will gather his people at the foot of a mountain in the Sinai, and he will speak them into existence as a nation. 

God is demonstrating his power, and accomplishing global good, by his words. 

But there’s much more to see here. 

Next time. 

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On a New Year

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Another new year. My 70th. After a while they all sort of blend together, don’t they? 

Since I started this blog back in July 2017, this is my seventh New Year’s post. (I know the math doesn’t work; I didn’t post about New Year’s Day in 2018, because apparently I took a break between 12/18/17 and 1/8/18. I was young and relatively inexperienced in those days.) 

Seven being the number of completeness, maybe I should quit after this one. But I don’t expect to. 

It’s usually fun to reach a turning point like this—a new year, a new baby, a new job, a new house—and to anticipate the ways that it will change what lies ahead. I’m one of those optimists you hear about, and I tend to over-expect what good things might happen. That puts a spring in your step, but it also sets you up for disappointment. 

Others, perhaps less optimistic, or just under realistic threat of coming or continuing hardship, have expectations that are less sanguine. If the optimist’s weak spot is disappointment, the pessimist’s is fear. 

The Scripture speaks to both of those. 

To the disappointed it speaks of God’s sovereign goodness, the rightness and propriety of the expected thing’s not happening. The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord (Ps 37.23). Further, it speaks of the importance of not finding our ultimate satisfaction in what happens to us here (Ec 1.2-3). 

To the fearful it speaks abundantly; the expression “fear not” or something similar appears 75 times in the Scripture, and while many of those are referring to specific situations, the general application is clear. We fear God (Ec 12.13) but don’t fear anything else. 

But it has more to say to both groups than that. Three interrelated thoughts. 

First, this year, this life, this entire history of life on earth, are all temporary. Old coots are more sensitive to that than young ones (and yes, there can be young coots; look it up). The difficult things won’t last, and neither will the good things. While it’s impossible to be completely passive—stoic or Buddhist—about the trials and joys of life, we do find comfort in the knowledge that the trials will end, and we find warning in the knowledge that the earthly things we find joy in will not be permanent either. 

Second, as I’ve noted, life is providential; there is a wise and loving God directing our path through, and including, the trials and joys. They make sense—though not always to us at the time—and they serve a good and profitable purpose. Paul tells us that 

we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; 4 And patience, experience; and experience, hope: 5 And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us (Ro 5.3-5). 

The hard things—as well as the enjoyable things, I would add—give us the opportunity to endure, which makes us stronger, which enables us to overcome, which gives us confidence the next time. In our joys and in our sorrows, we’re getting useful things done, and we’re becoming the improved version of ourselves that will live forever. Life is temporary, but it’s an important investment. 

And that leads to the third thought: there’s more and better coming, and it will not be broken, and it will not be temporary. And no, this is not pie in the sky (though, given that the tree of life bears fruit every month [Re 22.2]), maybe there will be pie; who knows?). This is the promise of God: 

3 And there shall be no more curse: but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him: 4 And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads. 5 And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever (Re 22.3-5). 

In this New Year, live with the end in mind. 

Happy New Year. 

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash