My Resolutions for 2023

 

In her 33rd year of life, Amelia Earhart became the first woman to fly across the Atlantic solo. John Knowles wrote "A Separate Peace." Alexander the Great put the finishing touches on his conquest of the known world. Oh, and a young man from Nazareth ushered in the kingdom of God through his salvific death on the cross and victorious resurrection from the grave.

So I should probably make sure I do better in my 33rd year than only accomplishing 10% of my New Year's resolutions. With every intention of accomplishing every goal on this list, here are my resolutions for 2023!

1. Pray for and contact every resident member of my church every month.

I have a confession to make: pastoral visitation doesn't come naturally to me. Unlike preaching, which I've always had a knack for and enjoy practicing, it's much more outside my comfort zone to call up a church member whom I haven't seen in a while or pop by the nursing home for a quick visit. Whether it's because of my introverted nature, my overly polite fear of interrupting people, or just plain laziness, the point is that I have to make a concerted effort to do sufficient pastoral visitation outside of emergencies.

So this year I'm resolving to systematize those contacts. Every month I plan to make at least one intentional contact with every resident member of the church. That can be a phone call, a text message, an email, a note in the mail, a lunch, or a personal visit. It cannot be small talk before and after services or seeing them at a meeting. The idea is to pastorally check in on everybody every month so nobody falls through the cracks. In a congregation the size of SGBC's, it's the least I can do.

2. Listen to 350 albums.

I own so much music. So. Much. Music. And yet, partly because of my schedule, partly because of my lack of a commute (I live walking distance from the church), and partly because of the steady diet of podcasts I've been consuming since college, I rarely listen to music.

It's a shame. It's a waste. And it's time to do better.

Originally my plan was to listen to every song I own over the course of the year. Unfortunately (or is it fortunately?) I have 9,524 songs and counting in my iTunes library, meaning I'd need to listen to an average of 26 songs per day to meet that goal. Hardly a realistic goal. So instead, I'm shooting for an album a day, with 15 days of grace.

Since I'll be using my iTunes library instead of Spotify, I won't have a nifty automated listening history to show off at the end of the year. But I'm sure I'll keep track manually, and I'll plan to share it in a blog post come December!

3. Exercise 6 days per week.

In the days before kids, I ran at least 5 days per week, at least 3 miles per day. Even after Andrew was born, I stuck to that pretty religiously for the first few years. When Katherine was born, I became less disciplined, but was still managing to run 3-5 times per week.

Then Andrew started school, and it all came crashing down. I was definitely not prepared for how much my morning routine would be upended by the daily need to get one kid across town by 8:00 AM, Monday-Friday. The result: I haven't run 3 miles in a day since....August? July?

So before I get any more sedentary than I am now, it's time to get back on the horse. My game plan: run every other day and go to the city's local recreation center (an absolute steal at $40 per year) and do weight training the other days. Sunday will be my off day.

It took me nearly 25 years to get in the habit of exercising regularly. It ought to take a lot less time to get back in the habit.

4. Carry a journal everywhere. And use it.

I have a truly terrible memory, especially for names and dates. I'm a daydreamer, prone to coming up with new ideas in slow moments instead of during designated planning or brainstorming times. And as a pastor, I'm constantly juggling about 20 balls in the air, between sermon thoughts, administrative tasks, pastoral care, and a little thing called my home life.

Put all those things together and I really ought to be writing more stuff down instead of keeping things in my head and hoping for the best. So in 2023 I'm resolving to make sure I have a journal and pen on me at all times so that any stray thought can be captured before it flits away. Sometimes that'll be a book-sized journal, sometimes that'll be a Field Notes memo book in my back pocket.

My hope is that this will help compensate for my lousy memory and take a little pressure off Lindsey to remember all the things for me, as well as help me in planning and brainstorming moving forward.

5. Cut my iPhone screen time to 2 hours per day.

Every year I've made it a resolution to put my phone down—to be more present with my family, more open to boredom, and generally more willing to let a minute pass without being stimulated by media. And every year I've given up almost immediately, falling prey to the siren songs of social media and push notifications.

This year, in an effort to make the resolution for measurable, I'm looking to cut my average amount of screen time down from the 4 hours I average to half that. That may mean taking a bathroom break without pulling my phone out of my pocket <gasp> . It may mean eating lunch in silence instead of while watching YouTube videos. It will certainly mean giving Lindsey and the kids my undivided attention instead of checking my Facebook notifications.

Seems like a resolution worth making.

6. Learn how to use Photoshop.

There are certain computer skills I've picked up along the way simply by being a Millennial. I'm Internet-savvy, I'm fluent in social media, and I can troubleshoot most simple computer problems. I can't code or do anything fancy on Excel, but I'm certainly not a novice at general computer stuff.

That being said, one extremely useful computer skill I've never had an occasion to pick up is the use of Photoshop. When designing pamphlets and flyers, operating the church's Facebook page, and designing our website, to this point I've been able to rely on our stock image subscription, Canva, and some Google-able programs to get the job done. But going into 2023, I'd really like to at least learn the basics of a program so powerful it's become synonymous with image enhancement.

The church already has the subscription, so all I need to do is check out Photoshop for Dummies from the library and devote the time and energy to learning. I think I (and the church) will be better for it.

7. No buying lunch for just me.

When it comes to food preparation, I am fundamentally lazy. Not only do I hate cooking, I don't even like spending the time necessary to make a sandwich or a salad. Given the choice between spending 5 minutes to pack a lunch beforehand or skipping it entirely, you'd be appalled at how often I choose the latter. And to top it all off, I'm not a big leftovers guy.

What that means is that, far too often, my default choice at lunch is to go grab fast food. It's convenient, it's relatively cheap, and it keeps me from having to make something for myself. Unfortunately, when I say relatively cheap, that's in comparison to a sit-down restaurant—it's obviously still more expensive than bringing something from home. Oh, and it's terrible health-wise.

So I'm making a new rule for 2023: no buying lunch for just me. If I want to go out—whether that's at a sit-down restaurant or for a Big Mac—it needs to be with a friend or family member. This has the added benefit of helping with my previously referenced desire to make contact with every member of my church every month...if I want to go out to eat, I'll just have to find somebody willing to go with me!

My expectation is that this will help my wallet, my stomach, and my pastoral habits. But I won't lie...of all the resolutions on this list, this is the one that will require the most discipline!

8. Floss.

This is embarrassing to admit, but I have never been a flosser. Every dentist appointment, I give the same answer when the dentist asks if I floss regularly: "Ehhh, not as consistently as I should." When I say that, I'm lying by omission: I don't floss at all.

But I have a Waterpik, it's a new year, and I really want to stop lying to my dentist. So here goes nothing.

9. Apply for Truett Seminary's PhD of Preaching.

For years, I've been telling people—especially my family members—that I plan to eventually go out for a PhD in Preaching at my beloved George W. Truett Theological Seminary. The academic rigor it requires, the focus on preaching, and the opportunities it could afford me down the road to do some adjunct teaching all make it something that interests me in a way that a Doctor of Ministry never really has. I even went so far as to have lunches with Dean Todd Still and Dr. Scott Gibson to learn more about the program years before it ever officially launched.

What I haven't done is apply. Some of that is because of the strenuous entrance requirements (particularly with regards to biblical and research languages), some of it because of life events (moving to Garland, Katherine's birth, etc.), and some of it, admittedly, is just plain inertia. As Dr. Still wisely put it when we talked last month, "The start is what stops most people."

So this year I'm resolving to make the necessary preparations and apply by the end of the year. That means taking the GRE, that means boning up on my biblical languages, that means crafting a statement of purpose, and at some point, that will mean grabbing lunch with Dr. Still again for wisdom and encouragement.

If I apply and am accepted next year, I should have the PhD by age 40. I won't lie, I'm a little terrified...but excited too!

10. Lead my church to grow.

In the 3 years I've been pastor of South Garland Baptist Church, the church has gotten smaller. The reasons are up for debate—the pandemic, a national decline in religious identity, a sometimes overwhelming number of deaths in the last few years—but the fact is not. In my tenure, the church has shrunk, not grown.

I'm blessed that my church remains supportive of my ministry and receptive to my leadership, but I confess that moving into 2023 there is a certain feeling of having my back against the wall. The budget was slashed—wisely—in light of declining offerings, staffing has been tumultuous, and we have been having more funerals than baptisms lately. If you go looking for logical reasons to hope for better days ahead, you might come up empty.

And yet, despite all this, I'm probably more excited this year than any January before. Diminished resources give me leeway to get back to basics and force us all to be more creative. Fewer and aging members force longtime volunteers to lean on younger members, abandon ineffective programs, or both. And the impression that we're in a corner, which might lead some to despair, has aroused (at least in me) a reflex to fight.

So I'm calling it now, in fearless faith: in 2023, the church is going to grow spiritually and numerically. And I can't wait to do what I can to help make it happen.