On Beginning a New Year

Goodbye, Resolutions. Hello, Rule of Life.

I spent Advent with Malcolm Guite’s collection of poems entitled, Waiting on the Word, and it was Anne Ridler’s poem, “Christmas and Common Birth,” that I found myself returning to. In fact, it’s Ridler’s poem that I think of today: as a new year begins, launching us into all kinds of intentions and resolutions for new beginnings. Ridler’s poem asks questions like what might be born this year, as God works and wills in me according to God’s good pleasure (Phil. 2:13)? What will such births require?

I wrote in In Good Time that I’m a sucker for the promise of a new year. I suppose this is part of being human, made in the image of a God who makes and remakes, a God who promises to make all things new. We might even say that time management, for all that it fails to deliver as an industry and genre, touches this nerve of hope within us. Can it really be true that this year, I’ll make lasting and important change?

But for as I (rightfully) hopeful as I can be in January, I can also be equally naïve. It’s easy to me to imagine that change, or transformation, will arrive without obstacle or resistance. It’s easy to imagine that I will finally give myself fully to the demands of loving God and loving neighbor simply because I have a new Planner Pad and some brilliantly ambitious lists. (Yes, this is my annual PSA that the Planner Pad is an effective tool at organizing your life and lists, even if it isn’t going to produce a new you.)

But here’s the sobering reality of spiritual transformation: birth never arrives painlessly. This is the wisdom of Ridler’s poem, which situates us in the biblical image of birth as spiritual transformation. In the first stanza, the speaker muses that at first glance, perhaps Christmas is better slated for spring, “when physical life is strong/When the consent to live is forced even on the young.” Maybe, the poem muses, we’re better off imagining the Son of God come to earth (even come to us now) when new life is “pungent” in the air, when “juice is in the soil, the leaf, the vein.” Spring is a probable, propitious time for new life.

But this isn’t God’s way, the poem declares. Maybe, the speaker suggests, it’s best we celebrate the Incarnation—the glory of God in human form—in winter, this “dark dream of the year/that might wish to sleep forever.” In winter, the world falls to sleep, reminding us that “birth is awaking, birth is effort and pain.” God’s coming to us, God’s inhabiting us, God’s willing and working in us to lose our lives rather than save them is a miracle of birth that involves a long labor and delivery. Christ saves us once and for all—and this salvation, if we are to carefully mind the language of Scripture, occupies the painful length of a lifetime. Salvation, in other words, comes to us by grace—but grace may not spare us the discomfort of abandoning our old self and familiar comforts. Here’s a portion of Ridler’s poem:

To bear new life or learn to live is an exacting joy:

The whole self must waken; you cannot predict the way

It will happen, or master the responses beforehand.

For any birth makes an inconvenient demand;

Like all holy things

It is frequently a nuisance, and its needs never end . . .

The argument of the poem (if art can really be said to make an argument) is that winter is more metaphorically suited to spiritual birth. There’s an improbability to it, a great effort, a searing pain, a groan of ice—at many times, even a nuisance.

I’ve had the sense of this as I’ve been keeping a rule of life in recent years. (If you’re unfamiliar with the practice of a rule of life, this article—“Skip Resolutions: Make a Rule of Life”—is a great primer.) The writing of the rule has not been the hard part. I can set words to a page about the ways I will love God, love my husband, love my children, love my mother, love my city, even love myself—but these intentions, as they ask to be realized in a busy week and month, often feel more like “nuisance.” I feel wearied by them, put out, inconvenienced. I want my own transformation to ask less of me.

But this is part of the wisdom of the rule of life framework. It is conceived as a regimen of “practice.” It expresses the regular habits we give ourselves to with God’s help, and they are nothing to “fail.” You can only “fail” a rule of life if you don’t keep at the practice, if you don’t consent to the labor and effort, regularly putting yourself again and again into the hands of the One who brings forth new life.

A New Year is a wonderful time to imagine what might be made new with God. It is also a time for remembering that every birth, though a gift of God, is also an “exacting joy.”

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Reflection Questions for a New Year

A rule of life practice is a reflective practice. We reflect on the commands of Scripture, the nudges of the Spirit, the givens of our life, and the desires of our hearts. If you’re interested to begin the New Year with some good “rule of life” reflection questions, why take some quiet time and space to ask:

·      What’s working in my relationship with God? What’s not working?

·      What’s working in my other relationships? What’s not working?

·      What’s working in my vocational life? What’s not working?

·      What’s working in my sense of mission? What’s not working?

·      What’s working in my stewardship of my own body, heart, and mind? What’s not working?

·      What’s working in my life/household management? What’s not working?

*Emily P. Freeman ends her year by asking what’s working/what’s not working, and I’ve borrowed this idea from her. She has many great resources on reflection, including The New Right Thing Journal, which I recommend!

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Register for a January Rule of Life Workshop

I’ve got a few more spots in this week’s rule of life intensive (virtual) workshops. This Friday, January 5^th, the workshop runs from 11am EST – 3pm EST. On Saturday, January 6^th, the workshop runs from 9am EST – 1pm EST. All the registration information can be found here, including a new video I’ve recorded! I’d love for you to join, especially as we enter a new year. Purchase of In Good Time is required for participants.

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Become a Paid Subscriber to A Habit Called Faith

If you become a paid subscriber to this community, in addition to supporting the work of these Monday letters, you’ll also receive additional subscriber content. This month, this content includes:

·      Friday, January 5: A reflection on the biblical story of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42), including insights from Jennifer S. Wyant’s book, Beyond Mary or Martha: Reclaiming Ancient Models of Discipleship (2019).

·      Thursday, January 11: A live conversation with Uche Anizor about his very good book, Overcoming Apathy: Gospel Hope for Those Struggling to Care. I’ll be speaking with Uche on Thursday, January 11, at 4pm PST/7pm EST. You’ll receive the Zoom link the day before the event, which will be a great conversation about acedia. Uche’s book won Christianity Today’s 2023 Book of the Year, and it’s well-worth your time and attention! This conversation will be recorded, and a link will be sent to subscribers.

·      Friday, January 26: An end-of-the month learning letter, including books I’ve been reading.

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Listen to the Englewood Review of Books Podcast

For 71 episodes, in collaboration with Joel Wentz and Chris Smith, I’ve hosted the Englewood Review of Books Podcast. This year, however, I’m turning the mic over to a new host. It’s been a great run, and for as much as I’ve enjoyed this gig, I’m making room for what’s happening here at A Habit Called Faith. I did want you readers to know about the podcast, in case I’ve failed to mention in here. If you love books—and great conversations about books—you’ll want to tune in!