Are you searching for a simple, memorable, spiritual resolution for the new year – something calculated to help bring about a genuine transformation in your life?
This weekend might be the perfect time to get started.
We’re talking specifically about Saturday, December 21. According to the ever-growing list of “official national days,” tomorrow is going to be something else.
December 21, for reasons that aren’t immediately obvious, has been designated as National Fried Shrimp Day. It’s also National Crossword Puzzle Day, National Flashlight Day, and Short Girl Appreciation Day – yet another opportunity to celebrate 4’8” Olympic gymnast Simone Biles.
Tomorrow is Maine Day, when all eyes turn toward the only US state with a one-syllable name. It’s also Phileas Fogg Wins the Wager Day, since the hero of Jules Verne’s novel Around the World in 80 Days launches his epic journey on October 2 and thus has to reappear at his London club by December 21.
In 2014, a feisty fifth-grader named Shannon Barba of Tijeras, New Mexico, proposed the creation of Don’t Make Your Bed Day.
Having made her bed every day since age four, she concluded it was acceptable every now and then to walk away from unkempt sheets and blankets. Interestingly, a research team from King’s University in England has demonstrated that unmade beds may actually be a healthy option, since exposure to sunlight reduces moisture and helps curtail the growth of mites and bacteria.
And what day did Shannon suggest we not make our beds? She reasoned it should be December 21 – often the shortest day of the year – figuring that people are likely to spend the least amount of time out of bed.
Tomorrow is in fact the winter solstice, the 24-hour period in which the Northern Hemisphere annually experiences the fewest minutes of daylight. As the first official day of winter, darkness will gradually begin to yield to increasing light.
It’s no accident that we celebrate the birth of Jesus just a few days later.
In author Walker Percy’s wonderful words: It gets darker and darker, and then Jesus is born.
No one knows the precise date (not the day, the month, or even the year) that Mary and Joseph brought their child into the world in Bethlehem. But early in church history, for a variety of interesting reasons, December 25 was earmarked as Jesus’ nativity.
It’s no surprise, then, that Christmas songs and carols – many of which originated in northern Europe – often reference falling snow and shivering shepherds, even though such meteorological effects were highly unlikely to have been part of Jesus’ arrival.
One such song is In the Bleak Mid-Winter, whose simple lyrics were submitted by English poet Christina Rossetti to Scribner’s Monthly magazine in 1872.
Thirty years later, the classical composer Gustav Holst (famous for his orchestral masterpiece The Planets) crafted a humble melody. Lovers of Christ and Christmas have been moved ever since. Here are the familiar first and last verses:
In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.
What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give Him my heart.
Enjoy this rendition by Audrey Assad, as arranged by Paul Cardall: In The Bleak Midwinter
If we journey six months beyond the first day of winter, we arrive at the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. A few days after that, June 24, is the official “nativity day” of John the Baptist.
No one knows exactly when John was born, either. So how did his special day become associated with the beginning of summer?
It has to do with the fact that before Jesus came on the scene in ancient Judea, John was the hottest spiritual ticket in town. His ministry was a public prelude to the arrival of the Messiah, and some of his followers wondered if John just might be that guy.
John himself was the first person to set them straight. As soon as the real Messiah showed up, his work would begin to decline. Pointing to Jesus, John said, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30).
That must have been crushing for John’s loyal followers. His disciples had hung on his every word. As long as John was Number One, and they were seen in his company, their spiritual standing was sky high. But John made it clear that it was time for them to transfer their loyalty to Jesus, the one they had actually been waiting for.
John knew his own gifts. He knew his particular call. He knew he was just an extra in God’s full-length movie of the history of the world. He wasn't the star.
That’s a pretty good working definition of humility.
It’s not that we think less and less of ourselves, but we think of ourselves less and less as we point the spotlight towards Christ. Thus Jesus’ birthday is celebrated just after the darkest day of the year, in the certainty that things will now be getting lighter and lighter.
And John’s birthday is commemorated just after the longest day of the year, in the assurance that nothing can prevent summer days from becoming shorter and shorter.
Returning to our original question: Are you searching for a simple, memorable, spiritual resolution for the new year – something calculated to help bring about a genuine transformation in your life? How about these six words:
He must increase; I must decrease.
What might that look like?
I will spend more time paying attention to God, and less time paying attention to myself. I’ll invest more of my energy and resources pursuing the things of Christ, and less energy and resources padding my own list of things to do. I’ll commit more minutes diving into God’s Word in 2025 and fewer minutes mindlessly browsing entertainment options. Above all, I’ll ask someone else to hold me accountable to actually keeping these promises.
Can that really happen? Of course it can.
It can even begin on the winter solstice.
May such resolves become our way of life this Christmas, even as we march toward the ever-nearing warmth and light of spring.
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