Resolving Resolutions

Abbie Smith — Sat, 18 Dec 2010 08:28:12 -0800

res·o·lu·tion (n) - a formal expression of opinion or intention made, usually after voting, by a formal organization, a legislature, a club, or other group. - a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something. - the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc. - the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose. - the act or process of resolving or separating into constituent or elementary parts.

I never thought I would write about this, but I’m about to—for the third year in a row! New Years Resolutions. I loathed them growing-up. Thought they were lame, superficial and only made to be broken. But something changed a few years ago. Call me crazy, or obvious, but I decided to let God into my attempts toward resolve. I was good at lip-service toward Him being the only true resolution, so could only assume His involvements in my early January jargon might be wise.

(If you’re curious of the back-stories here, feel free to ask, but otherwise, I’ll cut to the chase as much as possible.)

2009: I decided to give God my Sundays. Or maybe I decided to give God back His Sundays. Some weeks it ended-up being another day, but the bottom line was, I resolved to actually start honoring a Sabbath. In college I tried this various times, but studies got in the way. And after college, I tried various times again, but other things got in the way, like deadlines, bills to be paid, laundry, cleaning, emails to be returned, etc. “Maybe this was an old-school covenant,” I decided, “and if Jesus lived in our day, he’d be sympathetic to too much needing to be done anymore for a Sabbath to unfold.” But long story short, I went on a three-week solitude retreat in upstate Washington. By myself in a cabin for three weeks, with nothing but a Bible, journal and daily spiritual direction, I experienced rest, I think, for the first time in my life. And in that rest, I learned to rest, too. Returning that January, I realized that if ever again missed a Sabbath, it was by volition, not necessity, as previously ascribed. I never needed to work seven days a week, and in fact, was made to function most fully on a rhythm of six, plus one of rest. Three years and 156 Sabbath’s later, I can honesty say that I don’t think I’d survive without this rhythm. Oftentimes I’ll even end up taking a mid-week mini-Sabbath on Wednesdays now, too, not because my weeks have gotten less busy, or my heart necessarily more holy, but because I’ve resolved an aspect of my existence that never wants to go back. Sabbaths don’t look the same for me, but always combine some variety of worship, reading, solitude, community, napping, strolling, reading, or dining. And cessations of work, internet, shopping, chores, etc. And passive though they may seem/be, I consistently find myself uniquely active, and creative, these set-apart days.

2010: Prior to this year’s resolution, I was tending toward book-aholic-ism. If left to my own devices, I would probably spend most nights at home with a book and cup of tea. But my problem was that no book ever satisfied and, in fact, amplified my enticement toward twelve others. Though usually meaningful, they rarely quenched anything lasting. I couldn’t get enough, you might say, and though stacking more and more masterpieces on my shelf, always perked-up at the next literary find. In a vow of simplicity that fall, however, I realized, a) In Himself, God had already given me immeasurably more than I could ask or imagine and b) He’d already lined my shelves with hundreds of books, many of which would benefit from more than my usual one-time read through. So for 2010, my resolution would be a book fast. I wouldn’t buy a book for the entire year, unless it was required for work, from the library, or given to me for review/endorsement. I could reread anything I already owned as many times as I wanted, but for this year, at least, it seemed appropriate that I take a break from buying anything new (and by new I mean new from any used book stores, as well!). Alas, here I sit, twelve months later. Yet again, the Lord was kind to my pursuit of resolve. I did not buy any new books this year. I did, however, reread much that I already had, as well as more than double my bookshelf’s material when I married fellow book-aholic!

2011: I’ve been exploring possibilities of resolve with God these last few weeks. And as with the last two years, what we landed-on seems daunting. I’ve realized how I miss aspects of simply being with God, not for the sake of gained knowledge, or dutiful understanding, but mere adoration—telling Him, without words, that I love Him, and receiving His love for me. So this year, I toast with God toward a resolve to spend some array of daily minutes this year, simply being with God. Along with what can seem the more "productive" approaches (Bible reading, journaling, etc.), the goal here is the simple and profound task of my presence showing-up to God's—to worship, follow, listen, see, hear, taste, touch, feel, feast, wonder, fast, honor and adore.

Hello Twenty-Ten

Kristin Ritzau — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 21:56:03 -0800

I am a sucker for bookstores and libraries. The thought of the amount of ink that has been spilled over the course of centuries excites me. The thought of a Kindle petrifies me. I love books. Each bound page is someone's opus, thesis, or work of art. I sometimes wonder what my life would look like if I just read book after book, only stopping to eat and sleep. How many could I get through?

My family knows this about me, so every Christmas I come home with another armful of books: Cookbooks, literature, non-fiction. It's marvelous. Then a funny thing happens. I just let them sit there for weeks on end, scared to bend their crisp covers. They are pretty and untouched. Their mysteries yet to be unfolded. I don't want them to be over with so quickly or to disappoint. Someone's life work gobbled up in a matter of a month. I want to appreciate it longer.

As 2009 came to a close I felt the same apprehension about 2010 -- not "oh ten," it's now "twenty-ten." The end of decade, the dawning of the throws of the 21st century. It's shiny and new and I don't want to blink and miss it.

I love January 1st. The promises, hopes, and resolutions -- this time it will be different. There is an overwhelming amount of expectation, especially at the start of a new decade. For what? I'm not sure yet, but it's alive inside of me too. Like a new book I want savor it, not just throw it on some shelf only to toss it into the Goodwill pile come 2012. I want to appreciate it because Someone went to a lot of trouble to create it. That Someone is already at the end of 2010. They know what happens. Is it a thriller? A comedy? Tragedy? Romance maybe? It could be all of the above, but there is trepidation in finding out. It means we must live it. We must choose the story we want to write.

Of course there are always edits and typos we never saw coming, but just as I pick up a new book, I want to choose how to read it. As I write, I want to be proactive in how I use my pen. In this new year I want to live with intention in the page of each day. Some days will flip faster than others, but I want it to be a story worth telling. So here you are 2010. Bring what you will -- may the stories that come out of this year draw a tear, draw a laugh, and draw many smiles.