"This year, things will be different. This year, I'm cleaning up my act. I'm joining the gym, cleaning my room, losing the weight, reading my Bible and praying every day. ... This year, I will finally become a better me!"
Of course, we all know how this ends — by mid- to late-January, my life returns to its own miserable routines until late December, when I decide that it's finally time to turn over a new leaf. And so, with pen and paper in hand, I vow, with only slightly less vigor than the year before, that "This year things will be different."
Why do I this to myself? Why do I even bother with New Year's resolutions? Usually, I think that resolutions are at least a little bit helpful, even if I don't keep them all. After all, a man needs goals in life, and a well-intentioned pledge to do better can't hurt ... or can it?
The problem with most resolutions is that they are based entirely on my own effort and will. They begin with a false assumption — that I am strong enough and well-intentioned enough to actually improve my condition. But could it be that my perennial failure in these endeavors is precisely because I am neither able nor truly willing to change for the better? (See Romans 3:10-12.)
My resolutions may help me alter some behaviors and habits for a time, but they don't have the power to change my heart. In fact, they often make things worse. Consider the two possible outcomes:
The first and most common outcome is either immediate or eventual failure. When this happens, I have no consolation. I find myself with double guilt: for continuing in this awful habit — and additional shame for breaking a promise. Failed resolutions lead me to despair.
The second and much rarer outcome is that I actually enjoy a measure of success. But my heart is so deceitful and self-centered that these accomplishments only make things worse. In my glorious triumph, I now drift toward pride and self-righteousness. After picking myself up, how easy it is for me to look with scorn and contempt on those who are still on the ground. It seems that even when I win, I lose. "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?"(Romans 7:24)
But now, there is one final resolution that I would do well to consider. One that the Apostle Paul made in his first letter to the Corinthian church:
I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. (1 Corinthians 2:2)
There it is — a resolution not to do something, but to know something. In particular, to know something that someone else has done for me. The goal is not to fix myself, but to know and go to the Son of God who died to save and change me — Jesus Christ. It was his death on the cross that satisfied God's wrath against me and broke the power of sin in me. And it is his love poured into my heart that fills me with unspeakable joy and enables me to become more like him in every way. (Ephesians 3:14-19)
Now consider the two outcomes once again: If I have any success in this final resolution, I cannot gloat, for I have not attained anything except a greater appreciation of the love and power of Christ for me. And when I fail, I cannot despair — for "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners — of whom I am the worst." (1 Timothy 1:15)
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The Rev. Michael John is pastor of Market Street Baptist Church in Amesbury.



