Why God Does Not Appear On My New Year’s Resolutions

I have noticed on several Christian blogs a theme of adding Christ to one’s New Year’s resolutions. I’m going to pray more. I’m going to tithe. I’m going to read the entire Bible. I’m going to be more active in my Bible Study. I’m going to devote more time to Church. I’m going to attend Church every Sunday. I’m going to be a better Christian.

I am going to hurl.

The problem with these resolutions is two-fold. The first problem is that it says very little or very negative things about your current relationship with God. The second problem is a big more concerning: what will happen to your faith if you do not accomplish your goal? There are probably many other problems that can be mentioned but these are two very important problems to start this examination.

Let me expand by adopting the premise that I am going to read the entire Bible and pray more in 2008. Neither are my goals for the year but I believe it will serve as a good example.

What do these goals tell me about my current relationship with God? First, it tells me that my relationship with Christ has not been a priority in the past. Or rather, using the two measuring sticks of faith called “frequent prayer” and “Bible reading” my faith has been inadequate and it needs to be improved. However, changing these habits to make one’s faith agreeable to these measuring sticks does not automatically improve one’s relationship with God. For example, I can read every page of the Bible. I can memorize every word that escaped Jesus’ mouth. I can read the Bible in its original language. I can become a Biblical Scholar.

None of that means that I have become a better Christian. None of it makes me a better wife to my husband. None of it makes me a better representation of the Christian Faith. I am not “Christ-like” because I have read every page of the Bible.

But it creates a false image. Its creates the idea that by completing certain goals and tasks, one can become a better Christian and in turn a better person and in turn have a better seat in the kingdom of God. While that feeds into the middle class dream of suburbia quite nicely, it does very little for a life of true Christian faith. It only fuels a false image to those in our community of how “godly” we are, feeding our egos and pulling us father from God and Christ.

But the second problem is much larger and has a devastating long term impact. What happens when we fail? What will happen to our faith when we do not reach our goal? Or worse, what will happen to our faith when we reach our goal? As Max Bemis of Say Anything points out “Like Judas the Traitor, we are both favored and deeply flawed”.

We fail. We are humans and we have fallen from grace. We are imperfect people in an imperfect world and we ache for the closeness we once shared with God. We ache to walk with God and to feel complete. We are tempted and we sin and we make mistakes. We search for forgiveness and we grant our own forgiveness sparingly. Setting a goal for faith does leave us in a good position for failure.

What happens when I vow to pray every single day in 2008? Do I have to beg myself and God for forgiveness when I miss a prayer? Or are my prayers filled with the simple requests of children but with none of the heart behind them? And what happens during times of doubt when prayer does not come easily? What happens when prayers are not answered the way I want and in the time I demand?

The rift between me and my maker grows deeper at my own doing? I will have set myself up for failure.

More alarmingly, what happens if I succeed? God will not descend upon me, although if I am truly heartfelt in my 366 daily prayers, I will most likely find peace and grace. But I will not find world peace. I will not discover that there is no more political divide (sadly, I will not find that liberal ideals are no longer forced at me in social situations). I will not find that I suddenly know the meaning of life. And if these were things that I expected as a result of my resolution, what will happen to my relationship with Jesus? Will I still know in my heart of hearts that he is, in fact, my savior? Or will it add to the jaded, cynical edge that taints the rest of my life?

The theme between these problems is simple: by making God part of our To Do List, we attempt to stop God from working in His own mysterious ways. We try to make God another aspect of our day planners. And God cannot be compartmentalized in that way. He won’t be. He refuses to be. And he refuses to fit into our areas of convenience by shaking us up.

These goals take away the true meaning of Christ. As Christ’s followers, we need to be able to go out into the world and do the work of God. And we need to be willing to surrender to the inconvenience of it. We need to be open to those moments not falling within the boundaries of our carefully planned lives.

God is not on my resolution list this year. He’ll do what ever he wants regardless of my vows.

My 5 Goals for 2008

The day after Christmas, I wrote goals for 2008 in the front of my pink FranklinCovey planner. Usually, I go a bit overboard with my resolutions. One year, I had upward of twenty five. Most years, however, I stay between ten and fifteen goals. No wonder I fail.

I set five different goals for myself this year, which was a quite a cut back for me. There are, as follows:

1. I will take better, proactive care of my health.


2. I will be kinder to my body.


3. I will read.


4. I will prioritize.


5. I will write.

While none of these are particularly earth shattering, lofty goals, I think I have a better shot of achieving them this year. While Penelope Trunk urges us to only make one goal this year (see link) I know I'm not a one goal kinda girl. I could never cut back that much. I know I'd be tacking on extra resolutions by the end of next week. I don't even think I could resolve to make no more resolutions.

This year, I'm focused on the life I really want. I want to be healthy. This may be the possible tumor talking but I think I need to account for Peter Keating and the space he occupies. I want to go to the gym. I want to eat food that is better for me. I want to sleep at night. But I also want balance. I don't want to be a health nut. I want to be able to prioritize my marriage, not my job or the other fluff. And I miss writing and reading. And by prioritizing things other than the TV, I believe that it is possible.

What are your goals for this year? And how do you plan on reaching those goals?

Peter Keating: The Tumor

I have an MRI scheduled for Thursday evening after work at the earliest possible time I could guarantee Brian could make it. I didn’t want to wait too long to have the test done but I need to know that my husband is there. I am terrified of needles and someone will have to hold me still while they inject the contrast for the scan into my vein.

I have always been a big baby about needles. The first time I remember receiving a needle was a traumatic and shocking moment and the experience has not improved from there. It does not help matters that I was sick and hallucinating at the time and I thought the old women in the hospital with blue hair were trying to eat me (in hindsight, I realize them telling me that I was “sweet enough to eat” was a lie intended to calm me down and not a promise of events to come). As an adult, I no longer blame those women but I do think that experience explains why I will never be a blood donor despite a belief in my family that blood donation is a patriotic and Christian duty. I suspect the Red Cross would rather not get my blood considering the ordeal I would likely put them through.

Brian will have to be there in order for anyone to survive.

The MRI is looking for a tumor my doctor suspects is currently growing on my pituitary gland and secreting hormones that should not be secreted. I am actually starting to hope that the tumor does exist. I’d rather know what is wrong than anything else. And I’d rather start treatment right away. In this case, ignorance is definitely not bliss.

I decided that naming the potential tumor that is lurking inside my skull would be a very good idea. I wrestled with the idea of naming it for several days as I don’t plan on keeping it inside of my head forever and perhaps I should not provide a tumor with its own identity but I ultimately decided that while the tumor is in me, it is not part of me and therefore should not share my identity with me.

I named the tumor “Peter Keating”.

My husband, who is not well read and who is not an objectivist, was very confused by this. I think he was also confused at the naming of a potential tumor but I’m fairly certain the tumor is there.

Perhaps I’m just putting the cart before the horse by treating a potential tumor as if it were here but at the same time, naming the tumor seems to make it better. As if by naming the tumor, I control the tumor. I control how long the tumor is here and I control what effects the tumor has on my life. It is almost as if I am Adam and God has given me the task of naming all creatures I am to have dominance over. I plan on dominating the tumor.

The fact is, without some sense of control, the possibilities of this tumor are terrifying. And while I know at some point I will have to be able to surrender the idea that I can have control or I will be humbled by something unexpected, but at the moment, I feel like a sense of control is a good thing. It gives me something to cling to.

My Not So Secret Affair with the Written Word

Brian has yet to learn that I should never be taken into an establishment that sells books so I frequently find myself in positions where I am trying to convince myself to only buy five books instead of five hundred while Brian looks confused that he can’t just walk in, buy what he needs and leave. Which is what happened Sunday afternoon as we were trying to finish up our Christmas shopping. Brian had finally thought of the perfect gift for his father’s girlfriend which helped us to finish our holiday shopping in a bookstore. As he hunted through Borders as a man on a mission, I browsed the beautiful aisles filled with books I have yet to read. Each unread book was a friend I had yet to meet.

I read the way some people eat or play video games. I live for a good book. I can ignore my husband for hours on end if the content is compelling and it is not unusual to find me hiding in a strange location with a book. I rarely bring books to my job because I don’t trust myself to not sneak off and hide in the building with my latest page turner in tow.

I purchased four books on Sunday afternoon. Brian had reached the “enough” point with my roaming and since we had taken separate cars, he moved on to the next errand. I still needed to ponder what “excessive” really meant in a bookstore. All of my purchases were impulse buys but that was to be expected. I was able to rationalize by telling myself that since the writers are all striking in Hollywood, there really isn’t anything good on TV except Law and Order: SVU reruns and I’m not sure Brian will be tolerating that for much longer.

Which brings me to my big question: if I didn’t really watch TV anymore, would my book purchases still be excessive? What if Brian and I read at night instead of tuning into a million different TV shows? Would our lives improve for the better? Or would we find that Saturday mornings were used to catch up on TV? What if Brian read instead of internet surfed?

I’m not sure if I’m quite at a point where I’m interested in unplugging my TV but I think I need to cut it back at this point. Brian and I regularly watch over 3 hours of television a day. Considering I watched less than one half hour of television a day at the time Brian and I were engaged, it raises flags about the change in my behavior. I think maybe the most I can commit to is trying to cut back to an hour of TV a day. It is, at least, a start.

Just Making Plans

From time to time, I find myself increasingly depressed about the loss of the drive and ambition that once filled out the idea of how I would be as an adult. I have great plans for myself and I saw no boundaries to the possibilities in my future. I thought by the time I was twenty-five, I would single, fabulous and rolling in money. I would be powerful. I would have a fabulous career and still have time for my friends. I would have amazing clothes and my own place to live. I would not have a roommate and I would have enough money to purchase my own car. I would be a published writer and look devastating in a photograph. I would be amazing.

Instead at twenty-five, I find myself married, exhausted and rolling in bills. I tried to buy into the Suze Orman “Young Fabulous and Broke” mentality but at this point, all I feel like is broke. The truth of the matter is I am not all that powerful. In fact, I find that I have a much better understanding of just how weak I can be. I have a great job but I don’t yet have a career. I don’t have time for my friends. I don’t have time for myself. I haven’t bought new clothes in about two years and that isn’t for a lack of a desire to have new clothes. I live with my father-in-law. I will probably have a roommate for the rest of my life, but fortunately my roommate is also my bed mate. I am still driving my grandfather’s old Buick and I barely have enough money for preventative maintenance on that. I have been too afraid to send my words to a publisher for review. And lately, I look more like a hot mess in photographs instead of devastating. Some mornings, I wake up and find myself amazed at how different my life is from the life I imagined.

I’m not sure I would change any of it though. As tempting as the imaginary life I planned for myself at eighteen sounds, it sounds incredibly empty to me now. I would not have my husband in that life – in his place, I would most likely find superficial sexual partners. I would probably be a slave to my work and I would probably be chasing the great almighty dollar. My plan from when I was eighteen does not have any form of charity involved. It also doesn’t have anything that resembles a relationship with God – something I would not trade for anything in the world. I would not have anyone to come home to and to cook for – I would have myself. It would be a lonely existence.

I still miss the ambition that I now lack but I feel no urge to try to recreate it. I desire nice things – I want to own my home, my own car. I want to have beautiful clothes and exquisite jewelry. But I want to be comfortable more. I want to take the time to appreciate the youth that is on my husband’s face and I want to memorize how tight his skin feels against the muscles of his arm. I want to enjoy the time I have married as this life will be far shorter than I anticipate it seeming. I do not want my youth to be wasted while I am young. I want to savor this time as it will all too quickly pass. Too quickly we will find ourselves with children and too quickly we will find that those children will have made children of their own. Too quickly we will find that our youth has left and our ambition brought us no farther than our laziness.

I would rather have the reality of my current situation than the false life I once dreamt of.

And it is sweet.