Tag Archives: 2 thessalonians 2:15

New Year’s Resolutions Are Not Bad

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A new year is very nearly upon us. For the record, I’m with Tennyson, who said, “The year is going. Let him go.” From there, as I do every year, I ask myself, “How can I improve? What can I do differently?” The answer is always the same. “Plenty.” And so, I make New Year’s resolutions.

I know some folks think it’s a ridiculous practice. I don’t, which is why I tell you as much each year at this time. I make New Year’s resolutions not on the whim of wise words from guys like Benjamin Franklin, who encouraged his friends, “Be always at war with your vices… and let each year find you a better man.” I do it because there’s something I know about myself.

I know I’ll end this year infected with the sin-nature. I know I’ll begin the new year with the same infection. For me, this is an essential concern.

Thankfully, there’s something else I know. I am a forgiven sinner. God loves me, and I live in His grace. This Gospel of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection for my dreadful transgressions changes my trajectory entirely. By the power of the Holy Spirit through that Gospel for faith, I have a new inclination.

“You are not welcome here,” the inclination says to the sin-nature.

I suppose, reminiscent of Franklin’s words, to speak this way to the sin-nature is to coax it to war. If you’re wondering what that war might look like, take a quick moment to read Romans 7:14-25. Fully aware of sin’s dreadful grip, Saint Paul wrote in verse 23, “But I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.”

And yet, the Apostle was prepared to face the deeply rooted inclinations of the flesh, having already written in the previous verse, “For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being…” (v. 22). Paul writes in this way only as the cross remains his strictest heading, adding rhetorically in verses 24 and 25: “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Paul rejoices that his wrestling with the sinful nature is entirely possible as it emerges from the Gospel deliverance won by Christ. In other words, because Christ has defeated death, sin has no rightful claim on the believer. It just doesn’t belong. And so, Christ has equipped us with a better nature, one equipped to wrestle and pin it.

From there, I think it’s interesting how Saint Paul sees God’s Law in an entirely new light. He doesn’t speak of it as burdensome, but instead, as good—as a preeminently useful weapon in the struggle against sin. From this perspective, he appears to lean in a direction that disinterests popular Christianity.

Essentially, mainstream Christianity is opposed to traditions, liturgies, rites, ceremonies, and other historical helps. But Paul appears to delight in the strictness of these things (1 Corinthians 11:1-2, 2 Thessalonians 2:15, 3:6, and others), counting it all joy to observe boundaries that keep him fixed to the Gospel.

I just watched the film Bonhoeffer. Well, I didn’t watch all of it. I only managed about forty-five minutes before I turned it off. The filmmakers framed Dietrich Bonhoeffer as someone who despised Christian tradition. They even wrote into his character syrupy, near-heretical phrases I’ve heard 21st-century mega-church pastors use concerning the faith. But Bonhoeffer didn’t write or speak this way. I studied Bonhoeffer extensively for my doctoral work and half of what so many claim to know about him and his theology is just not true. They often associate him with certain things without knowing what he actually believed. Concerning tradition, he was openly bothered by cultural influences on the Church and her historic practices, which is one reason why he was capably attuned to the Nazi dangers. Bonhoeffer didn’t see the Church’s traditions as humdrum things that needed to be jettisoned. They were protective things—Christocentric things. Their very point was to keep Christian hearts and minds fixed on Jesus. The Nazis brought their own rites and ceremonies—gestures, creeds, attire—all things that steered away from Christ to Hitler. The more they influenced the German Church’s leadership and clergy to massage these practices into the lives of the Deutsche Christen (the German Christians), the more the nation slipped into darkness.

I could go on and on about this, but I won’t. I’d rather return to Saint Paul. The Apostle to the Gentiles insisted that traditions, even though they might appear to some to have a Law sense about them, are quite useful in the spiritual battle. With this in mind, it’s interesting then how Paul insists still more in 1 Corinthians 9:24-27:

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.”

Mindful of the benefits of such discipline, first, Paul understands its nature and activities. He uses a very strange verb—ὑπωπιάζω—translated as “discipline.” It’s a visceral word that quite literally means to “strike beneath the eye,” thereby implying its visible nature. In other words, Paul doesn’t fight the flesh only in private with prayer, devotionals, quiet meditation, or whatever. His practices are activities—behaviors that others can see. He does these things to “keep [the flesh] under control,” that is, to enslave it to something better, something godly. That something is Christ.

These public behaviors are designed to keep him set on Christ.

I suppose that leads me to something else relative to New Year’s resolutions and why I think they’re good.

Essentially, Paul engages in self-discipline, viewable or unviewable, knowing it is not aimless but purposeful. That purpose matters for himself and others. If it’s visible, then Paul must know it has corporate effects. And so, he says as much in verse 27 when he writes, “I myself should be disqualified.” Disqualified from what? He already said what it was. His role as an Apostle who preaches. Paul knows that if he does not continue to practice visible or invisible discipline—keeping his body under control for the sake of godliness—his work as an Apostle could very easily become of little use not only to himself but also to the body of believers to whom God has sent him.

I practice self-discipline. One of my practices is to make New Year’s resolutions. It’s not just for me but also for you—for my family, friends, parishioners, people who know and see me. I know my sinful tendencies, and so, as a pastor, I fight them for the sake of remaining faithful to my calling.

As for you, consider your own vocation. As you do, take a chance at making your own New Year’s resolutions. Keep your eyes on the cross, and from there, try adding a routine to your life, some rites (words) and/or ceremonies (actions) that help keep your eyes fixed on Christ. For example, start off small. Maybe begin each day by making the sign of the cross and praying before you even get out of bed. If you already do this, maybe add something else. Maybe try something as simple as hugging your spouse and children daily and telling them how thankful to Christ you are for them.

You know you. You know what needs betterment. Give it a try. Be encouraged in the war against the flesh. And when you fail, don’t worry. Dust yourself off and get back in the fray. God is with you. He loves you. Steadied by His Gospel, He’s given you everything you need to maintain the course.

New Year’s Eve, 2023

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What I’m about to share happened while waiting in line at the Ace Hardware near my home a few days before Christmas. Jennifer and I stopped there for some miscellaneous items. Essentially, the visit went as follows:

Finishing the sale and handing the man in sleep pants his receipt, the youthful cashier said with a smile, “Thanks for coming in. And Merry Christmas.”

His trajectory already toward the door, the man stopped mid-stride and turned back, pausing long enough to stir concern among us for what he might say.

“Ma’am,” he started, “thanks for saying that.” But before relief could form in any of us, he continued, “You know, I’m so G*# D@*%ed tired of people saying ‘Happy Holidays’! It’s Christmas, for cryin’ out loud! People need to stop with the ‘Happy Holidays’ %*@# and say ‘Merry Christmas’!”

Nodding to the elderly woman in line behind him as if expecting her agreement, he looked back to the cashier. “Keep it up,” he said, walking backward toward the door. “You’re doin’ God’s work.”

Forcing her smile, the cashier replied, “Thanks again,” followed by an equally strained, “Merry Christmas.”

The elderly woman was visibly bothered. And why wouldn’t she be? She comes from a strange and alien land by comparison. Where she’s from, they don’t speak that way to one another, let alone adorn Christmas in vernacular sludge. I’m an inhabitant of a similar land, often considering myself a part-time resident of the 21st century. In many ways, I only visit out of necessity. I said as much to the woman in line.

“I’m not from that man’s world.”

She knew what I meant, responding, “Me either.”

Before I go any further, it might surprise you that I’m skipping over the man’s vocabulary choices. That seems too easy. You already know that his defense of “Merry Christmas” was an obnoxious contradiction in terms (Romans 12:1-2). Instead, I prefer to approach the event from a less obvious angle: the man’s sleep pants.

For starters, I know that 21st-century culture prides itself on self-pleasing individualism. That pride sometimes produces a desire to buck the system. Admittedly, bucking the system is sometimes required. But that’s not necessarily self-pleasing individualism. It can sometimes be a response born from the knowledge of right and wrong. God’s Law is written on our hearts (2 Corinthians 3:3), and if a person digs deeply enough, he’ll know when to abide and when to push back. Examining the strata, he’ll also discover that societies have their written and unwritten rules. It might not seem all that important, but I’m pretty sure an unwritten rule common to most is that what a person wears to bed is not what he or she should wear in public. The rule has little to do with what a person may or may not find most comfortable. Instead, it deals with liberty’s responsibility, namely, one’s role relative to context and the people in it.

No, sleep pants in specific public settings aren’t inherently wrong. A person wrestling with illness might be found wearing them at a doctor’s office. But that same person, healthy or sick, would not wear them to a court appearance or wedding.

Why?

Most normal folks don’t need to be told the answer, which proves the unspoken rule—the innate standard that fosters and preserves dignity, resulting in mutual respect. In its simplest and most broad-sweeping form, it knows that a society of conscientious and dignified citizens makes life better for everyone. More precisely, it understands that personal liberty does not mean a person is free to do whatever he or she wants. Liberty comes with responsibility. A society of citizens who think they can be, do, and say anything they want without consequence is doomed to act in ridiculous and contradictory ways. It’ll end up insisting that men can be women and women can be men, and it’ll expect everyone to agree. On the road toward doom, it will have increased its production and acceptability of crass scenarios like the one in Ace Hardware. That was a snapshot of the confused self-centeredness that acts without any concern for the people around it, that paradoxically slathers the dignified greeting “Merry Christmas” with the foulest words any world’s vocabulary can afford and then, unsurprisingly, nods to others, expecting them to praise its irreverence as noble.

What foolishness.

A new year begins tomorrow. An online friend shared the following quotation: “Every year, you resolve to change yourself. This year, resolve to be yourself.” I don’t know who spoke those words initially, but I disagree. I don’t want to settle for being myself. I want to be better than myself. This isn’t only for my benefit but for yours, too.

I’ve written plenty about how New Year’s resolutions are a good practice. Every year, I attempt to make personal changes. I do this because I know myself. I know I’m incredibly flawed. And so, by faith, I’m less inclined to remain settled in these flaws. I want to fight them (Galatians 5:16-18). I want to be better. I want to reach higher, just as Saint Paul encouraged: “If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (Colossians 3:1-4).

However, remember: “Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm” (Proverbs 13:20). In other words, to change, sometimes one’s surroundings must first be changed.

Thinking about the man at Ace Hardware, if I could make a resolution for him, it would be to spend a little time each day with citizens of the alien worlds owned by the elderly woman behind him in line. I’d have him binge-watch I Love Lucy or Bonanza instead of the drivel on Netflix. Or better yet, I’d send him to Dickens and Twain, to Austen and Fitzgerald. I’d send him to places where men respected shop clerks and the elderly, where men were women’s protectors, where language mattered, and so on. I’d send him to those distant realms for a few moments each day of the forthcoming year.

I don’t know what the effects might be. Still, it couldn’t hurt. I know someone who once spent a year in England and returned with the hint of a British accent and afternoon tea as routine. We become that in which we immerse ourselves.

Since we’re talking about it, how about this for a New Year’s resolution?

If you’re a Christian who’s been apart from your church family for a while, imagine how you’ve changed since you’ve been away. Now, imagine the benefits of returning. Imagine the eternal value of regular visits with the Gospel of Christ’s wonderful forgiveness. By extension, I’ll bet it wouldn’t be long before certain tendencies were traded away as strangely foreign. Receiving a steady diet of Christ’s forgiveness (which God’s Word promises will produce fruits of faithfulness [Galatians 5:22-23]), a person is bound to stumble into agreement with Saint Paul’s instruction to “not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2). That same person will likely align with Paul’s instruction to “stand firm and hold to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by our spoken word or by our letter” (2 Thessalonians 2:15), and to “let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear” (Ephesians 4:29).

Who knows? Either way, it’s worth considering. And may I suggest giving it a try in the New Year?