After promising myself and those I love that I would return to healthful ways after the holidays, I made my first pilgrimage back to the sweatshop known as 24-Hour Fitness.

Why was I not surprised to swiftly see so many others there in the throes of New Year’s resolutions. Rows of eliptical and treadmill machines, stairclimbers and upright bicycles, all taken by puffy, perspiring pilgrims, grimly gritting their way to better health. This is a commitment they’ve made and they’ll keep it, all the way through the end of the month.

But, come February, the parking lot won’t be so full; the machines will fall increasingly empty. The resolutions which seemed so firm and important in January will have succombed to the expedience of other priorities. For many, the inertia of inactivity creates too strong of a pull to merit regular exercise.

I’ve been on this pendulum for several years, beginning when my wife and I decided that a membership in a fitness club would help motivate us towards better health. It actually has. Regular, strenuous, cardiovascular activity kicks those endorphins into play and I feel better, mentally, physically and spiritually.

But it has not ceased to be a constant choice. Just like spiritual devotions, physical exercise, at least for some of us, is a choice we must constantly face to conquer the inertia of inactivity. The faith that such activity will reap positive results won’t do any good unless the choice is made to begin and to continue.

The guy at the fitness center told me that muscles weigh more than fat. So it’s an interesting balance: By exercising, we burn fat, but develop muscle. Lean muscle weight is better than passive fat weight. Yet, fat doesn’t get sore … muscles do! So amidst the soreness, I need to continue the push, believing that works, coupled with faith will reap the desire end.

Frankly, I’m looking forward to February and March, when, for some, the good intentions crumble, opening up more free exercise machines for me. But I pray that my choice will still be consistent to follow what by faith I know to be best.

In a recent column, Garrison Keillor, the familiar host of A Prairie Home Companion on NPR, quipped that “it’s highly unusual in this day and age to meet a critic face-to-face.”

He refers to the tendency we have to use the more easily accessed forms of electronic communication to disparage others, imagine conspiracies, or to otherwise assume the worst. We can do so in ether space without first checking our facts or even accounting for the implications of our words. A blistering email or blog is much more convenient than confronting someone in person. Yet in the weeks and months it takes for truth to prevail, credibility can be lost and reputations smeared.

Author Louis L’Amour frequently described the old West code–never shoot a man in the back, do it to his face. In a strange, rough sort of way, it was a mark of civility. These days, one way diatribes, whether it be during a shout-fest on TV, or in a one-way blog, are tantamount to shooting someone in the back.

Keillor has it right. “Civility,” he said, “doesn’t mean acquiescence. It simply means trying to observe the standards of face-to-face conduct.  People whale away at each other in the media and launch juggernauts of invective who never look each other in the eye … In the end, serious people have to be willing to sit down and look each other in the eye and say what we think.”

I suppose that applies as much to politics and religion as it does to the workplace and even the home.  

So as I think ahead on this New Year’s Eve, I would suggest face-to-face honesty and integrity as a worthy goal for us all. Once lost, it is hard to regain. So hold to it tightly and practice it every chance you get.

If anything steams me, it’s identity theft. Minds and consciences numbed with meth cannot fathom the hurt they have invoked. Reputations and good credit earned through years of fastidious living can be tarnished with one swipe of plastic. To me, identity theft should receive far heavier retribution from the law than is presently the case. Possessions are covered by insurance. What covers a lost reputation?

But wait. How does God feel about those who represent His name, but not His character? To be a Christian in name only … is that another form of identity theft? Is it possible there are many in every religion, Christians, Jews, Buddhists and yes, even in the Islamic culture, that while taking the name, smear the reputation of that religion by their actions and attitudes? The Islamic fundamentalist who hates unbelievers and the Christian leader who cheats on his wife may not be far different. They follow the same course as the identity thieves we all despise.

How about us? If taking the name “Christian” is a matter of the heart, and not just an outward label, where do we fit into the picture? Are we guilty of identity theft, too?

When His birthday came, we sang songs, celebrated with gifts, enjoyed the finest foods … and forgot to invite Him to His own party.

Why does the human heart yearn for traditions? Christmas time brings out some of the most poignant–decorations and activities and foods that surface only once a year. In my family, Christmas brings out the urge to make Yulecock, a traditional Scandinavian bread, rich with raisins, citron and cardamom–and wonderful as toast.

Somehow related to this is the desire (in many but not all cases) to be close to family during the holidays. There’s a need for “connectedness” to both our past and future, a sense of belonging, of our roots–that we were conceived with a purpose that is still valid.

Tradition can be a positive part of life, an inspiration to hold fast to values as a sort of generational glue. Tradition can also hold us back from our place in the future, i.e. the struggle within the familiar old story of “Fiddler on the Roof.” Tradition can prevent us from embracing new insights or preserve us from losing contact with timeless values. Tradition can add warmth to the journey or drape a cold chill over any hint of progress.

The key is what priority you allow for tradition. And that brings me back my Yulecock. The recipe’s simple–some water, flour, oil, yeast, brown sugar, salt, diced citron, raisins and cardamom spice. Oh, and kneading, lots of kneading! So, in your life, is tradition the flour or the spice, the foundation or the frosting, the main act or the encore? How has tradition enhanced or hindered your journey?

Their faces are anxious, frustrated, stressed. They’re not sure what to get … what that special person will really want. So Christmas for these earnest, well-meaning people becomes a “hell-a-day” of frazzled nerves, disappointed hopes and that vague ache in the core of their being that murmurs, “Is that what it’s really all about?”

Seems to me that the Prince of Peace came to deliver them … all of us … from the burden of a materialistic, self-centered “what’s-in-it-for-me” philosophy. Perhaps the truth of Immanuel, God With Us, is time set apart from all that other bustle, to spend with Him and reflect what His gift … His Gift … means to us, our families and our future. That is the gift that keeps on giving and giving for those that take the time, that are unencumbered with all the other trappings our world has placed on this special gift of time.