An Insurrection

Happy New Year!
Each January I find myself feeling compelled to set New Years resolutions. It is always a fine balance when deciding what kind of resolution I would like to commit myself to for the upcoming months. Resolutions are supposed to make your life better in some way but if you make the goal too big, it is hard to fulfill and you might be in danger of spending the rest of the year fighting the feeling of having failed rather than accomplishment.

A certain someone in my life frets when I declare my resolutions. They are worried for me that I might not succeed and will end up feeling bad. They don't want me to feel bad. Which is kind and compassionate but sometimes the fretting makes me rethink my grand plans and I pull back on my resolution. I re-evaluate the odds for fulfilling my goal and adjust so that the goal seems more likely. That should have happened 7 days ago.

But it didn't. They didn't.

In a very supportive and loving way, the One Who Frets repressed their fretting. No effort was made in encouraging me to re-examine this New Year's resolution. Just a smile and a nod and, 'that sounds like an interesting plan'.

And now, today, I'm thinking, shoot. Maybe the plan was too grand.

Here's the plan...

I have a bazillion books in my life that I WANT to read. That I have purchased and lined up on my bookshelves. That I have carried back and forth between my office, the house, along with me on study leave, on personal trips, in my purse, in my work bag, to my daughter's swim meets, on airplanes, to the library and to the coffee shop. I have carried and ported these books but I have not read them. Not yet.

Bazillion might be a wee exaggeration but only just. I have many, many books. And they all promise to fabulous. They cover a range of topics - hard core theology, what I consider to be theology-lite, memoirs, environmental, preaching great sermons, church growth, church history, advice on writing and, of course, prayer.

My problem is time. When is there time to just read?

During my sabbatical last year I dedicated myself to reading not one but two books nearly every week. I read a 'theology-lite' book each morning as I drank my tea and lingered at the breakfast table. And I read another book, usually a text book or a more serious non-fiction book that needed a bit of concentration, in the afternoon. I learned so much in those weeks. I have used several of my sabbatical books as inspiration in my preaching and in leading worship upon my return to congregational ministry. I have also used the wisdom and advice offered in those readings to guide my leadership within the congregation. Reading current and challenging books has been very beneficial. I miss it.

So...I'm going to concentrate this next year on catching up on my reading. And I actually have some 50-odd books that I want to read sooner than later. I've lined them all up on my bookshelf and will start making my way through them. Each morning I will dedicate some time to reading a book. A chapter or two a day. One book a week. 52 books in 52 weeks.

Pretty grand, hey?
A little ambitious, I know.
Where was the One Who Frets when it was time to talk me down on Dec 31st?
Gulp.

The only hope I have of making it even part way through the year is to be accountable. So, not only will I read a book each week, I also plan to put up a note on this-here blog each Friday to let you know that I've actually read it.

Which brings me to today. I did read a book this week. Insurrection by Peter Rollins (who happens to be my most favourite Irish philosopher/theologian and I LOVE hearing him when he's on a roll at the Festival of Homiletics.)

The book was great! So great that I've been making notes for future sermons. And so I don't want to tell you EVERYTHING about it here. But, I will leave you with this one short paragraph so that you may ponder...let me know what you think:

When God is found in love itself, then the very act of loving brings us into immediate relationship with the deepest truth of all. In love, the fragile, broken, temporal individual or cause that draws forth our desire becomes the very site where we find pleasure and peace. God no longer pulls on us as something 'out there'; rather, God is a presence that is made manifest in our very midst. Here meaning is not found in turning away from the world but fully embracing it through the act of love. (120)