Happy 2022! It’s resolution time. Perhaps you’ll make the very popular resolution: “I’ll never make another New Year’s resolutions.” Deep down, we know it’s hard to make a declaration about the future and how life will push hard to keep us from living into them, anyway. Cynicism aside, I want to lift up the good ol’ resolution as a worthy practice. Here’s why:
First, we all need to make changes. That may be hard to admit, much less to make public in some way. I’ve heard people who live with a “no regrets” mentality. “If I had it to do over, I’d do it the same way again,” they say. It is true that past choices are unchangeable, but living an unexamined life betrays a self-centeredness that inhibits our ability to mature as we follow Christ in the world. There is great power in confession – to ourselves, to God, to others. Owning up to our failures, disappointments and shortcomings can be a first step on the road to something much better.
Second, the time when we change calendars is a good opportunity for assessment. It’s a natural season to ask important questions. This time of year reminds me of a promise from Hosea: “Sow for yourselves righteousness, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes and showers righteousness on you.” (Hos. 10:12). The picture the prophet paints makes sense, even if you didn’t grow up on a farm. The more land you put into production, the more bountiful the harvest. How many of us are living our lives like the frozen winter fields? What proportion of your life is producing something of value to God? How much “unplowed ground” in your life can to be broken up in this coming year and made useful – and what will it take to break it open? The turn of a year is a good time to ask.
Third, this new year is an appropriate time to lean into the future. Sure, we might fail in what we set out to do. However, as the cliché goes, if we fail to plan, then we plan to fail. Most clichés earn their place because they have the proverbial ring of a broad truth. If you fear failure so much that you never set higher expectations for your life, you’re guaranteeing an outcome that seems remarkably familiar! Failure is never the “end of ends” that we sometimes believe. If we press on in God’s care, amazing things might happen. For the person listening for God in all things, even failure is a friend. Consider Paul, opposed, persecuted, shipwrecked, stoned and left for dead, deserted by trusted co-workers, slandered, and scorned. Sometimes, the projects to which he had devoted years of his life disintegrated before him. During from one of his imprisonments, he wrote to the Philippian church, “Forgetting what is behind, and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 3:13-14) I think he is remembered and beloved because he didn’t let the fear of failure keep him from pursuing Christ relentlessly.
This idea point to my last thought about the new year. This time of year is the time to renew our reliance on God’s grace. Despite all evidence to the contrary, some fancy themselves as “self-made,” but I am convinced that there is more at work in our lives than of our own devising. Living by grace begins by trusting God’s help. Again, it was Paul who wrote: “I can do everything through [Christ] who gives me strength.” (Phil 4:13) God’s strength was his strength through pain or joy, failure or accomplishment. If you didn’t practice relying on the Lord as much as you should have last year, there is no time like now to resolve to live differently.
Perhaps this year’s resolutions could sound more like prayerful petitions than bold claims of your own will. As we live into 2022, here is my prayer for us all: Lord Jesus, I know that we’re all going to need a lot of help to change. So right now I place myself, my family, my church and this world in your hands. Break up the hard ground, guard my heart and mind from fear, and lead me to a deeper trust in you. Amen.
Happy New Year,
Christopher