Fresh.
It’s New Year’s Day.
While I’m writing this post a couple of weeks before it actually goes live, I have just enough prophetic gifts to tell you that I didn’t make it to midnight last night.
I’m far less of a New Year’s Eve reveler and much more of a New Year’s Day ruminator. I don’t need the sparkling bubbly or the sparkling fireworks, but how I crave the quiet of a January first morning, alone in my living room and alone with my thoughts.
As I’ve gotten older, I’d like to think that I’m past the point of making resolutions that I know I won’t keep anyway. But that doesn’t keep me from looking a new year with fresh eyes … a sense of possibility … a natural opportunity to hit the reset button.
Daniel Pink captures this sentiment so well in When: The Scientific Secrets of Perfect Timing. He says:
The first day of the year is what social scientists call a “temporal landmark.” Just as human beings rely on landmarks to navigate space – “To get to my house, turn left at the Shell station” – we also use landmarks to navigate time. Certain dates function like the Shell station. They stand out from the ceaseless and forgettable march of other days, and their prominence helps us find our way.
If you’re experiencing your own living room ruminations this morning, may I recommend a few things to jot down on your blank sheet of paper? Can I encourage you to look at this day as a fresh start to a fresh year?
- Read the Bible. There are any number of annual Bible reading plans out there (you can find a few of my favorites here). A friend and I are going through the Psalms and epistles together this year, reading each of the latter in both a marathon and micro format.
- Read even more. You know John Wesley’s mandate to “Read or get out of the ministry.” (We can sub in leadership or parenting or life for that last word.) Don’t set a number of books to read goal as much as a time spent reading goal. [Related post: How to Read More this Year]
- Reset a rhythm. Over the last few weeks I’ve been looking at our team’s meeting schedules, event rhythms, and my own personal calendar. I’m making small adjustments to make each week, each month, and the full year a little less insane and a little more intentional. [Related posts: Mapping Your Ideal Year; How I’m Rethinking My “Ideal Week”]
- Avoid the bait of busy. Even as the previous three bullet points have made their way from my brain to my keyboard, I’ve realized that there is a tension between the “fresh” I’m pointing you – and me! – toward, and the “frenzy” that often comes with adding a Bible plan adding a reading plan resetting a rhythm. It’s easy for me as a consummate “doer” to skip right past presence and head to production. So for my sake – and maybe for yours – let’s end like we began:
Quiet morning.
Quiet living room.
Blank sheet of paper.
What gets written down for the coming year?
And perhaps most important: what gets intentionally left off?
