Have you quit yet? You want to, right? But you prepaid for that first month, so you gotta stick it out at least a few more weeks before you can quietly bury that impulsive resolution in its February graveyard.

I know. I’ve been there, too (a lot). Why do we torture ourselves with these annual empty promises of self-improvement? (Isn’t the credit card bill from Christmas enough shame to bear the first month of the year)? Why do we set ourselves up to fail?

Because our deficiencies are obvious. We want to change. To be better. Healthy. Whole. Secure. Happy. Connected.

So every 1/1 we toss a little confetti in the air, drop a crystal ball, and pray the annual re-emergence of Ryan Seacrest will finally give us enough inspiration to change. Then we bow to the idol of “should.”

I should lose a few pounds.

I should save for retirement.

I should spend more time with my kids.

I should be more open and vulnerable.

I should go to church more often.

All good things. All noble goals. All immediately classified unsustainable by the broken motivation called I should. Our efforts change, but who we are rarely does.

Here’s what I know:

IDENTITY: You were intentionally created by God (I don’t care if your parents meant it or not), meticulously woven together in your mother’s womb, each day of your life written before one of them came to be (Psalm 139). You were made with unimaginable creative potential for the express purpose of bringing honor and glory to the Creator. To be the aroma and expression of His love and life in this world.

But…

SIN: Your forefather (and mother) had a fruit fetish. A desire to go their own way. And they saddled you with a massive burden called sin (don’t be too mad, if Adam & Eve hadn’t done it, you’d have gladly done it on your own). You were born into it, and you wear it like a 100 pound weight around your neck.

And…

WOUNDS: If that wasn’t bad enough, other sinful people have taken whacks at you. Abused you. Abandoned you. A parent. A friend. An ex-husband. Fill in the blank. You’re bleeding out. You’re missing a limb. You believe lies about yourself and about God.

And amidst this weight of sin and wounds of this life, you once again make your annual attempts to fix yourself. You can barely stand up straight, and yet you think you can resolve your way to transformation.

Here’s the Good News: Jesus already finished for you what you couldn’t even begin for yourself. (Galatians 3:2-4)

He came to take your sin. To heal your wounds. To remove you from the brutal prison of failed self-improvement called I should. To help you become who He always intended for you to be.

I highly suggest you start there.

Like many I suppose, I spent some time talking to God over New Year’s weekend. Beginning of the year prayer and reflection is almost as Christian as eating at Chic-Fil-a. It’s true.

As I gazed upon the challenges of 2012 – as a pastor, as a husband, as a father, as a church leader – the following words just seemed to uncontrollably gush from my mouth:

“Lord, reignite my imagination! Give me a picture of the future that both excites and terrifies me, and fill me with the courage to walk boldly into things that are beyond my ability to control or even completely understand.”

Whoa. That’s big for me. Dangerous. Like taking your hands off the steering wheel (or texting while driving). What if God actually answers this prayer? Shoot, maybe I should have thought this through.

But I’m filled with such hope! A new sense of anticipation. Yeah, some jitters. And a few butterflies (that feel a little like pterodactyls).

And I thought that maybe…just maybe…you might want to join me?

New Year’s Resolutions are the Sea Monkeys of annual commitments.

Relatively cheap….

Energized by imagination….

Dead in a few weeks…

But there’s one resolution I dare you to take this year. In fact, I triple-dog dare you (TBS’s 24 hours of a Christmas Story hasn’t worn off quite yet).

Read the Bible.

I know, I know. You’ve tried. You hit Leviticus. I get it.

But give a renewed 2012 kind of effort and check out what God might have to say to you this year. Not my interpretation of it. Not your pastor’s sermons about it. Not your toddler’s felt-figure pop-up storybook synopsis of it.

The real thing. For yourself. Here’s a few tips that might help:

YouVersion.com

In my opinion, the best online Bible around. Pick from countless translations and paraphrases, see what others have to say about specific verses, post your own thoughts, questions, and insights, and perhaps even choose a reading plan that fits into your life. The mobile iPhone and iPad apps are stellar.

Reading plans are a great way to stay disciplined. But never forget, it’s not about getting through a passage of Scripture. It’s about allowing Scripture to get through you. When in doubt get the benefit, not just a completion mark. (Hint: there’s a “Catch Me Up” feature if you get a few days behind. Don’t quit. Use it).

7 Minutes a Day

My friend, Dr. Mike Elmore, designed his own approach to reading Scripture that I’ve also found to be a powerful asset. Commit 7 minutes each day. (Why seven? I don’t know. God’s perfect number? Six obviously wasn’t an option, and eight was already taken by that ab shredder program). But seriously, who doesn’t have 7 minutes a day? Liar.

• Pick a passage of Scripture (Mike usually sticks with one for a week or two).
• Read through it.
• Meditate on it (ponder it, question it, run it through the lens of your life experiences).
• Journal about it.
• Pray it.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Just a few thoughts as you head into a New Year. Get into Scripture. Let Scripture get into you. I guarantee a longer shelf life than that packet of brine shrimp masquerading as an underwater family.

It’s eternal.

What does God want to say to you in 2012?

This week I’m re-posting my best blogs from 2011. This is #1 (I’m guessing because a gazillion people were searching Google for Christmas Vacation the day after Thanksgiving):

Confession: At 6PM each Thanksgiving, the pumpkins magically turn into wreaths, and I turn into Clark W. Griswold.

Not Wally World Griswold.

Not Big Ben Griswold.

Definitely not Las Vegas Griswold.

Christmas Vacation Griswold. You know, the last funny movie Chevy Chase made (sorry, were you a fan of 2004′s Karate Dog?). That Clark Griswold. The eternal optimist. The schmaltzy traditionalist. (The accident prone).

Something really strange happens to me during the Christmas season:

• I enjoy corny musical arrangements I would mock openly in the New Year. Click here for my Spotify Christmas Playlist.
• I get all teary eyed hanging the “Our First Christmas 1995” ornament on the tree.
• I climb on ladders (please don’t tell my life insurance company).

Christmas has always been a wonder to me. A Hallmark Channel movie event. And the older I get, the more I realize my deep desire to hold onto those deep, warm feelings. To recreate them with my own children.

That’s the beauty of tradition. These constant markers that ground us. That ignite the senses. Remind us of what’s important. Of who God is. Of who He says we are.

Christmas Eve candlelight services.

The aroma of evergreen.

Advent calendars with daily family activities each day of December.

Homemade cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning.

There’s life in our human traditions (something I’d never have said to you in my early 20′s). Christmas never fails to remind me of that. But in the midst of all this Yuletide joy and celebration, I do feel a quiet sense of warning.

Traditions are beautiful. But I want to live, not just strive to re-live. I can get so obsessive about recreating past experiences, feelings, and sensations, that I completely miss the new ones happening right in front of me. That’s a shame. I want to enjoy these memories as they’re being created, not just when they’re hazy images I replay in my head.

So here’s this year’s Holiday challenge:

Embrace your inner Griswold! Bask fully in all your Christmas traditions! Create some new ones! Be schmaltzy and sentimental! Shut down your city’s power grid with 25,000 imported Italian twinkle lights!

Just remember: Traditions are a link to our past, not an excuse to keep living there. Live fully in every moment…today.

This week I’m re-posting my best blogs from 2011. This is #2:

Having children undoubtedly helps us understand God.

Don’t lie. There are days you wish you had the power to open the earth, commanding it to swallow those little boogers like a 6-pack of Chic-fil-a nuggets. Or you’ve certainly fantasized of forced walks through the wilderness until they were maybe somewhere in their early 40s (the ultimate SuperNanny timeout).

Come on, am I the only one?

This morning, my son marched boldly into my bedroom like he was holding a Presidential press conference on the unfolding Bin Laden saga.

“Anna’s just laying on the floor and not getting her clothes on for school.”

A familiar speech loaded permanently into the teleprompters of every human child. The only question is which kid will choose to access this morning.

Never mind his missing socks, un-tucked shirt, and hideous morning breath, Austin was proud to proclaim his sister’s shortcomings. He had something to point at. To compare himself to. And her obvious faux pas were drowning the fact he had completely ignored the voice of his father, too. He didn’t seem to notice the irony.

I, you, we’re no different.

There’s a time to step into the tension. To warn a sibling they’re blowing it. To correct, redirect, and challenge. No doubt.

But let’s be honest, most of us just like pointing out that our sister is napping because it helps us feel better about our own missing socks. And I’ve got to be honest, as a dad, that just ticks me off. I wonder how God feels? I only have three kids.

A thought I’ll pose for you to ponder:

What if we spent less time raising a ruckus about where others are missing it, and first made sure we were accomplishing all the Father asked us to do?

Just a thought. Do you agree?