Remember ye not the former things,
neither consider the things of old.
Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it?
I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.
I've been considering the symbolism locked in the making of a pair of wool socks.
If the sock itself had consciousness during its creation, it would probably be confused at the point shown in the picture above. The ribbed cuff, the leg, all come along smoothly in rounds of knit and pearl. But then suddenly, the Maker rearranges the stitches, ignores half of them and starts focusing solely (pardon the pun) on the heel. Back and forth. Longer and longer. While the rest of the sock just hangs, neglected, seemingly forgotten. What's going on here?
But if the sock abides, eventually the work of making and then turning the heel is completed. Suddenly, the dangling needles clatter back into action, and stitches are picked up, seams are made to bring old things into the circle again, joining with the new patch, taking on a complex shape distinctly fitted for its purpose, and everything makes "sense" again as the foot forms.
Likewise, God's new things don't waste the old ones, don't leave them dangling forever like superfluous work, but ultimately bring them all into a harmony of purpose once again.