Why I’ve changed my goals for 2009

Big surprise: I've already broken my token New Year's resolutions. And I'm okay with that.

That resolution about counting calories? I broke it when I told myself I needed to rid the refrigerator of leftovers and consumed that lonely slice of pumpkin cheesecake calling me from the back shelf. Predictable.

Or my yearly resolve to exercise more? Yesterday my husband invited me to accompany him on a long winter walk. I opted out of traipsing our local prairie path in favor of playing PathWords on my laptop. Good-bye, strengthened core. But hello, increased word power!

Oh - what about those projects relegated to my "pile of shame"? Recipes to test, letters to pen, manuscripts to evaluate, books to read, photos to organize - those things I've vowed I'd finally finish off? There they sit, still taunting me. So I continue to avoid them by concentrating on the less demanding (and more enjoyable) tasks that clamor for my attention.

And, at the cusp of every new year, I fool myself into thinking I'll transform into someone more intentionally upbeat and grateful about life - based, of course, on the strength of my resolve. But as the holiday glow fades and a familiar monotony returns, I turn glum and gripe-y about the chill weather and dark afternoons. I transform, alright - into a coffee-guzzling, cocooning curmudgeon. These first few days of January never seem to shape up differently.

Echoing the apostle Paul's words in Romans 7:18-19, I realize that what I want to do, I don't. And what I don't want to do, I do. New Year's resolutions feel strangely reminiscent of Old Testament law, which was meant to show us how utterly incapable we are of measuring up to God's holy standards. My self-imposed list of expectations sets me up, then knocks me down, usually by Day Three. Before too long, I see how far short I fall from my best intentions. How little willpower I really have to wrestle pesky habits into positive ones.

This year, I've been wondering what Jesus thinks of New Year's resolutions. After all, we believers are called to train for spiritual fitness, to attend to spiritual disciplines, to present our bodies as a living sacrifice, to exercise compassion, to prepare for explaining the gospel to others.

But I suspect he'd tell me this cultural notion of yearly resolution-setting is a waste of energy. And that it's too much about me. I will do this; I will do that. Resolutions focus on what I think I need to do to become happier, healthier, more productive, more spiritually attuned. To set and achieve goals. To live more intentionally.

My resolution motives are well-meaning. Lose weight - and become a better steward of God's temple, my body. Read my Bible through in a year - and grow closer to God. Exercise more - and gain increased energy for ministry.

But in the end, the power to achieve worthy goals or reverse negative habits comes not from what I can do on my own but on what God does through me. It's not about resolve; it's about surrender.

Frankly, my track record on keeping New Year's resolutions stinks. So this year I've decided to chuck the usual suspects from my list: losing some weight; setting a consistent quiet time for prayer and Bible reading; striving for professional success by setting achievable goals; trying to change my innate curmudgeonly-ness. While worthwhile, they're all about my plans for me. Instead, I'm trying to focus on the rather unquantifiable challenge of surrendering to God's will. To his purposes. To his kingdom. In whatever form that takes in 2009.

My desire for this year? To wake up each morning and say, "Lord, help me to say what you want me to say, do what you want me to do, feel what you want me to feel, and to be whom you want me to be." I suspect this might lead to a transformation I've never achieved on my own before.

What one goal might God have for you this year?