We love to make resolutions we don’t intend to keep. Stop smoking cold turkey. Lose 30 pounds by Valentine’s Day. Be less lazy. Write a book. Run a 4-minute mile by yesterday.
Stop. This year, let’s choose resolutions we can abide by.
Let 2015 be the year that attending church and Bible study is a priority.
Let it be the year that you singles and divorcees be open about your hurts and your wants.
Let it be the year you find find your bravery and strength in Christ and not your wimpy self.
Let it be the year that you husbands love your wives and you wives respect your husbands.
Let it be the year that you stop talking about making decisions or moves and actually make them.
Let it be the year that you pray for your pastor, that he would preach Christ–not himself, not his kid’s hilarious dinner conversations.
Let it be the year you read a book that teaches you something rather than Pinterest something that you’ll never make anyway.
Let it be the year you learn to say “no.”
Let it be the year that you, as a parishioner, let your pastor pastor you–praying for you, caring for you, and admonishing you when you need it.
And you do need it.
Let it be the year you speak out when your Christian beliefs are infringed upon–at the hairdresser, at your own dinner table.
Let it be the year you are bold and honest but respectful in your theological differences, even with people in your own church.
Let it be the year you focus your attention on caring for others, not on yourself.
Let it be the year you are honest about your mistakes, asking for forgiveness when you make them and then actually learning from them.
Let it be the year you tell your children you love them, not as a friend but as their parent.
Let it be the year you turn off the TV and do something different–go dancing, drive to a historical site, try out the bowling alley.
Let it be the year you learn what it means to suffer and to find contentment in it.
Let is be the year you read your Bible and your Book of Concord more and Facebook less.
Let it be the year you admit to your parents that they were right about almost everything. Almost.
Let it be the year you leave your phone in the house, lay on the grass in your yard, and try to count the stars your Father has hung in the heavens.
Let it be the year you laugh and smile.
Let it be the year you revel in your Lord’s gifts of Word and Sacrament, believing that they actually are what He says they are and do what He says they do.
Let it be the year you keep better in touch with your friends, with the ones that really matter.
Let it be the year you speak out for life in a world that will do its best to hush you.
Let it be the year of eating butter and wine and steak and bacon.
Let it be the year of being all that the Lord has designed for you in this life–replete with joy and tasty things and jovial friends and Him.
You love to make resolutions you don’t intend to keep. But so do I. And these are mine. And I’m holding me to them.