Intention Setting for 2021

Photo by @danwhale on Unsplash.

I had good intentions in 2020. I had plans for my life and for my ministry, like many of you. I was excited about serving as Bible study leader at a local children’s camp, looking forward to presenting at conferences and witnessing friends’ weddings. I had goals and plans for engaging children, youth, young adults and young families in my congregation. 

But as all plans do, plans change. We have changed (and if I hear the word pivot again I might scream!) so much about how we live, in this country and in this world. We have seen scientific evidence over and over again that our human community is connected in ways we didn’t even think about, in ways that we took for granted. Truly, the folks we meet on the street, in the grocery store, the people who serve us at the fast food joint and who deliver our mail and who touch the doorknobs we touch and who breathe the same air, impact us and we them. 

So as we move into this new year, how do we journey forward honoring the impacts we now know we have on each other? How do we care for each other in ways that make our world safer and more just? 

Last night in our youth group meeting, I asked the youth about what they wanted to leave behind in 2020, what they wanted to take with them into 2021 and how they wanted to grow. They wrote these things on a paper divided into 3 columns. After we shared, I invited them to cut or tear the column about leaving things in 2020 and tear it or throw it away or recycle it, if they felt like that was the right thing. Then we focused on sharing how we could be kind to each other and how we could support each other this year. It was a beautiful practice, and led us to name deeper things than we had before as together we reflected on how much damage 2020 had done to the world, how much it had changed our lives and our relationships and our friendships. 

And as we shared together, I reflected on the things that I want and need to leave behind in 2020. Caring too much what people think, comparing myself (my body/personality/relationships/job/life) to others, needing to do it all myself. I’ve thought many times this year about getting off social media, overwhelmed in moments of frustration and jealousy and angst at the photos people post of new phases of adulthood, of dining out during COVID, of fancy vacations. In these moments (which I am not proud of but I know that everyone has from time to time), I try to remember 1 Corinthians 12, concerning spiritual gifts and containing that gorgeous illustration of the body of Christ as containing many parts that work together. I try to give thanks for my own gifts, and when I have trouble thinking of any, I think of what my loved ones tell me and what they have uplifted in me over the course of my life. I remember that, as 1 Corinthians says, no body part can tell another part “I don’t need you” or “I am better than you,” because each has a different purpose and a different way of serving the wellbeing of the whole. I won’t tell you that each and every time I have these (totally normal human) feelings and think of this scripture that I feel 100% better. But I do remember that I play a role in my family and friend groups and relationships, and others play their parts, and together we work to make the world a more beautiful and just place. It takes all of us, embracing who we are and how we are in the world, collaborating and advocating and uplifting each other. 

So here are some of my intentions for 2021: 

• Be present where I am. Stop (or at least contextualize) “grass is greener” thinking. 

• Give thanks for my gifts.

• Help others see and honor their gifts. 

• Collaborate. Delegate. Participate. 

• Be attentive to God’s presence with me in all life situations. 

A friend shared this blessing with me last week, as we prepared to welcome in 2021. I have revisited this poem often over the last several years that I’ve been aware of it and am grateful each time for the new ways my heart receives this wisdom. 

The Year as a House: A Blessing by Jan Richardson

Think of the year

as a house:

door flung wide

in welcome,

threshold swept

and waiting,

a graced spaciousness

opening and offering itself

to you.

Let it be blessed

in every room.

Let it be hallowed

in every corner.

Let every nook

be a refuge

and every object

set to holy use.

Let it be here

that safety will rest.

Let it be here

that health will make its home.

Let it be here

that peace will show its face.

Let it be here

that love will find its way.

Here

let the weary come

let the aching come

let the lost come

let the sorrowing come.

Here

let them find their rest

and let them find their soothing

and let them find their place

and let them find their delight.

And may it be

in this house of a year

that the seasons will spin in beauty,

and may it be

in these turning days

that time will spiral with joy.

And may it be

that its rooms will fill

with ordinary grace

and light spill from every window

to welcome the stranger home.

Photo by @danscott on Unsplash.

Ordinary grace. May each of us be filled with ordinary grace in this year 2021, not needing to make elaborate resolutions or change our bodies or compare ourselves to others. But may we come to know and love ourselves as beautiful children of the Holy, created to love and be loved, created to welcome, include, comfort and share this ordinary grace. 

May it be so. 

Let’s chat. Leave a comment!

What are your intentions for 2021?

What are you leaving behind in 2020? How do you want to grow?

When in 2020 were you proud of yourself? What did you learn in 2020?

What Scripture helps you reorient your life when needed?