Category: Lifestyle Choices

 

We are now a few days into the new year, and I’ve let the resolutions craze pass. I didn’t come up with a list of 20 drastic changes I want to make in this year, and I didn’t decide to overhaul my entire lifestyle in one fell swoop.

I’ve done that in the past, and I’ve always ended up feeling defeated and frustrated.

Instead, I’m easing into the new, praying about how I’d like to be different, and asking God to tweak me to be more useful to him.

That’s it.

Sure, I have goals I’d love to see materialize in 2017, and certainly I have habits I want to change, but I’m not falling for the lie that 2017 must be different in every way from 2016. I’m not going to pretend that I have to be a completely different person because it’s a new year. I didn’t expect to wake up on January 1st and be transformed.

A thought that occurred to me as the calendar changed is that while we humans place enormous significance on a new year, God is not limited by our earthly calendar. Our years are days to him, and the stroke of midnight changes nothing about him or his work in our lives. Transformation isn’t just available as one year turns to another. January 1st is not the only day for a fresh start. Remembering these facts took a lot of pressure off my perfectionist spirit, and I was relieved.

My greatest goal is to let this year be what God wants it to be, not force it to be what I envision. To this end, I have some hopes for 2017:

• to memorize more Scripture than I ever have. I made a plan, bought some supplies, and have some accountability partners, so I’m optimistic I will internalize and forever carry more of God’s word in my heart.
• to run more miles and clock faster times this year. I love to run, and I always say it’s my free therapy. It’s when my mind can relax and open itself to creativity, so while there is certainly a physical benefit, there’s a greater mental one. That’s what I’m looking forward to the most.
• to chase the dreams God has set in my heart unapologetically and without playing the comparison game. Last year I quit my teaching job to pursue writing, and it has exceeded my expectations. But I have become discouraged so many times by looking at other writers and assuming I need to be like them. This year, I am praying for focus on my calling and my daily tasks. I want blinders to all that doesn’t help with these.
• to enjoy my children and husband more. My kids are 10 and 11 now, and I keep thinking about the day they leave my house. It’s not that far in the future, and I don’t want to look back and wish I spent more time enjoying them. They are fun, funny people, and while they’re definitely children in need of training, they’re also people whose company I enjoy.
• to make a greater impact for God’s kingdom. I have learned so much in the past year about living as a kingdom person, and my new knowledge has challenged my choices. I want this to be a year where I deliberately pursue the things of God above the things of this world.

 

Resolutions are easy to make and hard to keep. That’s why gyms are empty in March. But hopes placed in God’s hands have a much better return, and I’m handing him my hopes for this year.

 

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Before you get outraged by the headline and assume I’m bashing being an American – don’t. I love being an American. I get misty-eyed at football games when 80,000 people pledge allegiance to the flag and fighter jets fly over. I vote proudly (if hesitantly like this November), and I cried when I bought a soldier coffee the other day. So please don’t assume I’m unpatriotic or say I should move to another country.

But I was scrolling through social media this morning (mistake number one), and I had a sudden realization that being American allows us to be ridiculous in ways others around the world don’t have the luxury of being. I watch the evening news every day (I’ve turned into my father for whom the world stopped at 6:30 pm), and I know of the world’s wars, famines, and threats. I follow organizations that try to stop human trafficking, and I give money to relief organizations that feed and educate the poorest children. My Instagram feed shows me every day the life-threatening, desperate situations people are facing. But it also shows me how self-absorbed and hypocritical I am.

How are we Americans ridiculous? Consider these examples:

• we spend money on pine cones that smell like cinnamon. We buy pine cones. Scented like cinnamon. All while people are being bought and sold as sex slaves.
• 67% of us pay for monthly gym memberships we never use. When children have distended bellies from starvation.
• we entertain ourselves within an inch of our lives and allow ourselves the luxury of turning our eyes from the homeless people holding signs en route to the concerts we attend.
• we buy Christmas presents for our dogs when our neighbors can’t pay the medical bills for their sick children.
• we proudly display Nativity scenes in our homes but disobey the Christ who said to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and care for widows and orphans.

 

I am the guiltiest of all, so don’t think I’m pointing a finger at you. I just bought a cream to fade the freckles on my face, and I threw away food yesterday that rotted because we didn’t eat it in time (and because it was vegetables, and the potato chips seemed like a better choice).

I love Jesus, but I am such a ridiculous hypocrite sometimes. I know he doesn’t ask us all to take a vow of poverty, live in a one-room shanty, or own nothing beautiful. He is a Creator himself, and I know he takes delight in the handmade nativity on my table. I know the beauty we create in our homes can point to the beauty he creates. But his commands are crystal clear, and they clearly say to love others as ourselves. And if I choose to decorate my home with scented pine cones but fail to feed someone I know is hungry, I’m clearly loving myself more than I love others.

Do you ever feel burdened by the sharp dichotomy between the choices you make and the beliefs you profess? Do you ever look around and realize you consistently choose what you want over what others need? Do you ever realize in moments of acute clarity that your life does not scream “self-sacrifice” like it should?

Gosh, I do, particularly at this time of year. The needs I see are so obvious, and so is my own wastefulness. My own selfishness. My own disobedience.

It’s not wrong for Christians to decorate their homes, and it’s not sinful to buy your dog a toy. But it is wrong to set your heart and hope on those things while neglecting what God values most – people. It is wrong to consider yourself and ignore others. It is wrong to assume someone else will help them so you can help yourself.

And I’m guilty of all of those at times.

I’ve been a Christian for over half my life now, and rather than it getting easier, I find it’s getting infinitely harder. The more sensitive I am to the Holy Spirit, the more convicted I am by my decisions. The more I learn of God’s word, the more I realize how far away I am from living it. The more I get to know Jesus, the more I realize how I’m not like him.

Maybe it’s not being an American that makes me act ridiculous. Maybe it’s being blessed. Maybe it’s having financial security. Maybe it’s being born sinful and wallowing in that reality every day.

I want my life to glorify God. But I fear I’m so focused on pleasing myself I don’t realize how little glory He gets.

I’m taking an inventory of my life these days. Not writing down what possessions I own, but really taking stock of where my heart is. I’m looking at what matters to me, and I’m questioning if my lifestyle is acceptable to my God.

I’m not condemning myself for my poor past choices, but I’m also not giving myself a pass. I’m trying to be brutally honest with myself. Who am I? Who do I want to be? Who does God say for me to be?

We all make ridiculous choices. There’s no denying that, and there’s no way to be perfectly selfless all the time. But there is a way to be selfless more often, and that’s what I’m after. That’s what I’m choosing. I’m hopeful I can still decorate my home doing it, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.