THIS Is What I Will Do

            New Year’s resolutions aren’t for me. They usually have to do with something like the scale, food, measurements and things like that. Can’t remember the last time I made a resolution. Somehow the word resolution comes closely associated with the words broken and forgotten. As somewhat of a pragmatist, I would rather not start at all than fail soon or resoundingly.

            Take our upper room. For some years I thought I’d commit to finally taking care of all the things there that I keep telling myself I need to deal with, even though I don’t know what to do with them. You guessed it. Because I still didn’t know what do with them, I didn’t get the room cleaned out. Someday I hope to go up there and find it tidy because they all decided what to do with themselves! Or take the chair rail with the four nail holes showing because I didn’t drive them in and repaint the small strip of rail. It’s been about ten years since we did the work that necessitated the reset of the rail. Really? How hard is it to do that?

            This week I’ve reconsidered resolutions. Although I still don’t like the word, I like the idea of being resolute. Doesn’t resolute sound stronger, like a quality characterizing a warrior, a leader, or a redeemer? It’s like commitment, and that’s a word I’m fond of.

            A Christmas present, Vertical Church by James MacDonald, drove me, however, to at least become resolute. As I read through the book, I realized how half-hearted my worship of God often was on Sunday morning. You might not have thought so if you saw me. I didn’t think so. Wasn’t I singing, listening, engaged? This is what I do on Sunday morning. I do these things because I want to and because as a believer I should. Yet I think I haven’t been fully involved in the worship of the Supreme God of the Universe, the Most High God. I GET to ascribe honor and glory that is due him and to no one else anywhere. Where have my zest, my slack-jawed awe, my joyful worship gone?

            The other day, in the stillness of the morning I thought about how I might respond if my father, who has been dead for over four years, were to walk into my kitchen and talk with me again. He’d be the only one talking; I’d be speechless. The Savior of the world died and came back to life. How can I possibly slip into autopilot or complacency in worship? God has transformed my life, and walking with him for nearly fifty years shouldn’t lull me into ho-hum worship.

            Is it a resolution? You can decide. For the forty-some Sundays left in this year and for the Sundays beyond, I resolve to offer nothing less than wholehearted devotion to the Lord God Almighty. I will actively worship with hands, voice, heart, and mind—all of my being. I will eagerly attend, expecting to see God show his glory as he works in our midst. And I will be a part of inviting him there, anticipating his appearance.

            I’ve drawn the chalk line and stepped over it. Will you come over on this side with me, too?