2018 New Year's Resolution Scorecard

2018 has come to a close, which means it's time to make resolutions for the new year. Tune in tomorrow to see what I've come up with in that regard.

But before that, I wanted to take one last look at the resolutions I set for 2018 and see how I measured up. As you may remember, I had a lengthy list of resolutions, some easy and some wildly ambitious. The good news is, I took (almost) all of them seriously over the course of the year. So here's my scorecard for 2018.

*Note: As you'll see, in keeping score here, I'm not a legalist. They're my resolutions and it's my scorecard, so I'm awarding myself points based on whether I kept the resolution in spirit more than whether I fulfilled it according to the exact wording.*

1. Blog once per week

Midway through the year, I realized I was failing spectacularly at this one. The problem was not so much a lack of will as a lack of ideas—there simply weren't as many things that I cared to blog about as I'd thought when the year began. So in addition to occasional blog posts when I had something to say, I started regularly writing music reviews for a website called The Daily Vault (which I previously wrote for as a high school and college student). It served the original purpose of this resolution—an outlet for personal writing—and meant, since I have over 400 albums in my iTunes library, that my idea well would never run dry.

That being said, I had some catching up to do when I adjusted this resolution, and I didn't quite make it to the 52 I'd set as my goal. 44 ain't bad, but it's not close enough to give myself full credit here. Since I stuck with the resolution and took it seriously, but I didn't quite pull it off, I'll give myself half credit on this one.

Score: 0.5 out of 1

2. Talk to every member of my family once a week

Another one that was adjusted midway through the year. I mentioned in an update earlier this year that I had misread this resolution, thinking my responsibility was to talk to a member of my family on a daily basis, rather than talking to every member of my family over the course of the week. After discovering my error, I decided to just go with it (while still making an effort to talk to all my family members regularly.)

Thanks to technology, it's easier than ever to stay in touch with people you love...but since you're already seeing their updates online, it's also easier than ever to forego that contact. All it took was the will and a daily iPhone reminder to make this happen, and I'm glad I did. This is a good example of the purpose of New Year's resolution—once a goal, this is now a habit, and one I intend to stick with going forward.

Score: 1.5 out of 2

3. Read the Bible in a year

Check. Every morning, once my coffee kicked in but before Andrew woke up, I'd read a few chapters from Eugene Peterson's paraphrase of Scripture, The Message. Tomorrow morning I'll be able to say that, for the third time in my life, I've read the Bible all the way through.

In the coming year I have a different plan on how to spend my devotional time. Stay tuned.

Score: 2.5 out of 3

4. Drink more water

This was one I'd forgotten about until my update a few months ago, but since then I've done very well with it. I bring my plastic water bottle with me almost everywhere I go, I keep it filled, and I shoot for about 100 oz per day.

Took me half the year to get on this one, but the habit has formed.

Score: 3.5 out of 4

5. Complete the Navy SEAL workout (minus the swimming portion)

Nope. Total failure on this one after trying to take it seriously for roughly one week. It turns out that I just really really really hate upper body workouts.

I learned several years ago that I like to run and I've got the body type for it. So in 2019, instead of trying to make myself something I'm not, I'm going to lean into the exercise I enjoy.

Score: 3.5 out of 5

6. Give half my entertainment money to charity

Done. I mentioned in my initial post that I wanted to give based on the people groups listed in Matthew 25—the hungry/thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the imprisoned—so I chose these organizations and causes:

• For the hungry and thirsty, the Texas Baptist Hunger Offering, which helps fund over 130 hunger relief and development programs across the state and around the world.
• For the stranger, Buckner International, which (among other amazing programs) is deeply involved in foster care and adoption for children in need of safe, loving homes.
• For the naked, Mission Waco, which, quoting their mission statement, provides "Christian-based, holistic, relationship-based programs that empower the poor and marginalized" of my city.
• For the sick, a Baylor medical missions trip to Pignon, Haiti that occurred March 2-9.
• For the imprisoned, Hospitality House in Huntsville, a free home-away-from-home for families visiting prisoners at the federal penitentiary.

These are all fabulous organizations and causes; please consider giving to them yourself.

Score: 4.5 out of 6

7. Learn sabermetric terms better

First I read Smart Baseball by Keith Law, which is essentially a takedown of outdated traditional statistics and a primer on sabermetrics. Then I made flashcards of 30 basic sabermetrics stats I thought were important to learn. Then I studied those flashcards. So...yeah. Check.

Score: 5.5 out of 7

8. Construct the perfect baseball scorecard

Boom. Cost me about 15 hours and $20.

Score: 6.5 out of 8

9. Learn to cook 50 meals

This is the resolution I took most seriously, (and the one that was most appreciated by my family.) Between vacations and super busy weeks where we never ate at home, there's a good chance I didn't get to exactly 50, but Lindsey will be the first to tell you that I cooked at least once per week when possible. Do I like cooking any more than I did this time last year? No. I still pretty much hate it. But at least now I've got a decent collection of recipes.

My top 5 dishes:

1) Pot roast with homemade meat rub
2) Shrimp and chicken gumbo
3) Chili
4) Pulled pork pizza
5) Swedish meatballs

Score: 7.5 out of 9

10. Finish all my comic books/graphic novels

Everything is read except a few books I just got for Christmas. So, you know, time to read those and then buy more! (That's how it works, right?)

Score: 8.5 out of 10

11. Write a book

Aaaaand now we're to the ambitious ones. Nope, no book. However, I do have an idea for a book now (something I didn't have this time last year), and even a rough outline for it. So expect to see me renew this resolution in 2019.

Score: 8.5 out of 11

12. Learn biblical Greek, biblical Hebrew, Latin, and German

Nah. I studied flashcards off and on for a few months, but this was the Everest of the list, and I never got past base camp.

Score: 8.5 out of 12

13. Learn Spanish

Never made a serious effort here, which I'm ashamed of. I said this in January: "I've become convicted that any Texas pastor who isn't at least trying to learn Spanish isn't thinking ahead." I still believe that, so this will be on 2019's list. Hopefully without 4 other languages on the list vying for my attention I'll take it more seriously.

Score: 8.5 out of 13

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So for those of you keeping score at home, I wound up completing 65% of my resolutions. Not bad.

Making a large list of resolutions instead of just choosing one was an exercise in seeing how many different ways I could seek self-improvement and determining along the way which I would take seriously. It was a good experiment and a good year, and I'm excited to share 2019's resolutions with you tomorrow. So long, 2018!

The Ministry Bowl (Friday Devotional)

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ…Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot would say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear would say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose.

- 1 Corinthians 12:12, 14-18

As all the Longhorns, Aggies, Bears, Horned Frogs, Cougars, and Mean Green reading this already know, it is officially college football bowl season. Players, coaches, cheerleaders, and band members, to say nothing of students and alumni, are traveling to locations as exotic as Honolulu and as—let’s just say ‘not exotic’—as Albuquerque and El Paso for these games. Players will be lavished with gifts from bowl committees, schools normally relegated to obscurity will get their moment on national TV, and in the end, the winning schools will bring home trophies to proudly display for years to come.

When you think of these games, your mind probably goes immediately to the biggest bowls, the ones played on New Year’s weekend like the Cotton Bowl, the Sugar Bowl, and the granddaddy of them all, the Rose Bowl.  But in the days prior to those big games with national championship implications, there are smaller bowls for the teams who squeaked in with winning records but no illusions of title contention. These games lack the grandeur and tradition of the bigger bowls, and it shows in their sometimes hilariously corporate names: the Redbox Bowl, the Belk Bowl, and the Camping World Bowl, to name a few.

The thing about these smaller bowls is that, despite their insignificance relative to the national title, they can mean everything to the participants. For example, while Alabama and Ohio State would sneer at an invitation to the Arizona Bowl, New Mexico State could not have been happier to play in it last year—it was their first appearance in a bowl game since 1960. Their matchup against Utah State wasn’t one seen by millions; it wasn’t the kind of game you’d put at the top of the marquee. But when New Mexico State triumphed in overtime, guaranteeing them their first bowl victory in 57 years, Arizona Bowl executive director Alan Young said, “You’d have thought they won the national championship or the Super Bowl.”

Ministry reminds me of bowl season in that sense. It can be easy to think that the only ministry that matters is the high-profile stuff: preaching before thousands, missionary work in the Third World, giving millions of dollars to nonprofits and missions organizations, and the like. But effective ministry cannot be measured by worldly measures of success like audience size or dollars raised. For the widow living alone, a visit at home by her Sunday School teacher is more meaningful than anything a megachurch pastor might tell her on TV. For the single mother struggling to get by, your offer of free babysitting is a more visible manifestation of Christ’s love than anything she’ll read about in a missions pamphlet.

Scripture reminds us that the body of Christ, i.e. the church, is made of many members, and needs each one in order to function as intended—so don’t let anyone, including your own doubts and insecurities, tell you that your contributions to the kingdom of God are insignificant. Low-profile, unacknowledged, “small” ministry is anything but meaningless—for those you serve, it can mean everything.

Rushing Through Christmas (Friday Devotional)

But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

- Luke 2:10-14

‘Tis the season for hurrying: hurrying to buy last-minute presents, hurrying from one Christmas party to the next, hurrying from family gathering to family gathering. For every child whose eyes light up with the joy of the holiday, there is a parent whose eyes are bleary with exhaustion. Christmas is the season of hope, peace, love, and joy—but also of long lines, bumper-to-bumper traffic, torn wrapping paper, and ‘some assembly required.’ It is, simply put, a stressful time.

In a sense, that’s fitting, because so was the first Christmas. Jesus was born in an unfamiliar town because of a government order, was placed in a makeshift crib because no suitable place would host his parents, and was visited first by strangers from a nearby field then by foreigners carrying strange gifts. His first years of life were spent in hiding from a powerful king who wanted him dead.

Without even meaning to, we tend to idealize that first Christmas, picturing a serene Mary, a strong Joseph, gentle shepherds, and a silent night. But the truth is messier, louder, and less picturesque. The first Christmas was stressful, a night of fears and doubts, blood and tears.

But out of all that stress came Jesus. Though that first Christmas was hardly a peaceful one, peace ultimately came, not because the noise stopped or the activity ceased but because Christ was born. In that tiny baby laying in the manger came our reconciliation with the Father, redemption from the Son, and restoration in the Spirit. All around him may have been chaos, but in him there was peace.

As you rush through the next week, don’t look for peace in the events and traditions, however meaningful. Don’t look for peace in the gifts you give or receive, however beautiful. Don’t look to Christmas for peace—look to Christ.

From Sickness to Wellness (Friday Devotional)

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin.

- Hebrews 4:15

It’s been a rough week in the Camp household—Andrew decided to ring in his second birthday with a nasty case of Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV). Our normally happy-go-lucky toddler was reduced to a pitiful shell of himself, content only when being held by me or Lindsey. We in turn found ourselves exhausted trying to take good care of him without neglecting our other responsibilities.

As the week went on, something kept coming to my mind whenever I’d dry a tear or draw up another dosage of Motrin, something I’d never really considered in quite these terms: Jesus got sick too. As an infant in Bethlehem, the King of Kings spat up when he ate too quickly, squalled when he filled his diaper, and snuggled close to his mother’s breast when he had a fever. As a toddler in Egypt, the Lord of Lords sobbed and flailed when he didn’t feel good, wanting to be held one moment and then feeling smothered the next. Even as an adolescent and a man, making his way from Nazareth to Galilee and ultimately to Jerusalem, there were undoubtedly mornings when the Son of God woke up with sniffles and coughs and headaches.

I know this to be true because Jesus was not only fully divine, but fully human; he was not only the Son of God, but the son of Mary. Every year at this time we celebrate this miracle called the Incarnation—the Word becoming flesh and living among us, the Son of God emptying himself by taking the form of a slave and being born in human likeness. But I wonder if we fail to recognize all the earthy implications of Jesus’s humanity.

In our rightful desire to exalt Jesus as Lord, we imagine him as a teacher who always had the right answer ready, a worker who never grew weary with his task, and a leader who was always in control. Real life, human life, isn’t that easy. Being human means dealing with aches and pains, it means battling fatigue and depression, it means having to deal with people who can’t or won’t understand what you’re trying to tell them. Human life is a never-ending series of both triumphs and trials, flashes of transcendence accompanied by long spells of temptation.

The amazing blessing of the Incarnation is we know Christ experienced all of that. He was not born impervious to the struggles we face; no angels protected him from scraped knees or hurt feelings. The physical, emotional, social, and spiritual tests we face every day are all familiar to him, because he faced them too.

What set Christ apart is that, facing the same challenges which send us stumbling into sin, he stayed true to the Father, obedient even in the face of anguish, humiliation, and death. And so today if you will place your faith in him, repenting of your weakness and trusting in his strength, by the grace of God you can inherit his reward: resurrection.

Life is hard—but Christmas reminds us that Christ knows that as well as we do. He didn’t study hardship from a distance, he experienced it firsthand. Jesus got sick so that we could be made well. Jesus wept so that we could rejoice. Jesus died so that we could live. So as you celebrate the truth that on a Bethlehem night the Word became flesh and lived among us, may it be more than just doctrine to you—may it give you strength for today and hope for tomorrow.

First Impressions (Friday Devotional)

“Do not judge, so that you may not be judged.”

- Matthew 7:1

You never get a second chance, goes the cliché, to make a first impression. It’s practical, albeit pessimistic, advice—people make snap judgments the moment they meet you, so you owe it to yourself to put your best foot forward. How you look, what you say, and who you’re with determines what people will think of you upon introduction. And once the judgment is made, it’s hard to change it.

As pragmatic as that advice is when you think of yourself as the one being judged, it’s poisonous when you start to position yourself as the judge. No matter how good you think your intuition about people is, no matter what gifts of discernment you possess, people can surprise you. Indeed, God constantly works through the most surprising people.

Christmas is an annual reminder of this. If someone from Bethlehem had wandered into the nativity scene the night Jesus was born and made a snap judgment, they would have seen a teenaged mother and her cuckolded husband welcoming their baby into the world with no one to celebrate with but some rough-necked day laborers. They would have seen a couple so unprepared for parenthood that they hadn’t even gotten found a place to stay that night, much less a crib or a going home outfit. They would have pitied this poor child and assumed he was destined for a life of little value.

Armed with information and perspective, we know better than our Bethlehem bystander—we know that Jesus’s humble birth was God’s signal that He is with us, no matter our social station. We know that God chose people of humble obedience to raise the Son of God, that He welcomed shepherds to greet the birth of the Good Shepherd, and that both the goodness and the greatness of God were on display that holy night. But none of that comes across in a first impression.

In his famous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus cautioned us not to judge lest we be judged. God makes a habit of working with lowly, messy, unexpected people to accomplish His purposes, and those who let their personal judgments determine people’s worthiness are liable to miss out on the chance to see grace at work. You may never get a second chance to make a first impression with some people—but Jesus’s birth, life, death, and resurrection remind us that we do not worship the God of first impressions, but the God of second chances.