Let’s be honest: January in America is exhausting.

Before the Christmas tree is even at the curb, the cultural machine shifts gears from “Joy to the World” to “Fix Yourself.” The ads are relentless. Hack your metabolism. 10x your income. Optimize your morning routine. We are told, subtly and aggressively, that the version of ourselves that existed in December isn’t good enough for January.

The message is clear: You are a project to be managed, not someone to be loved.

And if you walk into a church this month, you’ll likely hear a baptized version of the same pitch. The only difference is we swap “productivity” for “fruitfulness” and “self-improvement” for “sanctification,” but the engine underneath is often the same. We treat the Gospel like a spiritual P90X program, a way to get ripped for God.

But Jesus didn’t die to make you more efficient. He didn’t rise from the dead to help you crush your 2026 goals.

If we actually look at the context of Scripture, the “New Year” isn’t about trying harder. It’s about a radical, counter-cultural refusal to play the game at all.

The Context We Ignore (Isaiah 43)

We love to slap Isaiah 43:19 on Instagram graphics in January: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

It sounds like a great hype quote. But the context changes everything.

Isaiah wasn’t talking to people with gym memberships and diet plans. He was speaking to Israel in Exile. The Babylonians had decimated their culture, stripped their identity, and enslaved them in a foreign empire.

These people were traumatized and hopeless. They weren’t looking for a “fresh start”; they were looking to survive.

When God says, “I am doing a new thing,” He is speaking against the Empire. He is telling them: The world says you are finished. The culture says you are slaves. I say you are mine, and I am making a way through the wilderness.

The “new thing” wasn’t a self-improvement tip. It was an act of liberation.

The Idol of Speed vs. The Reality of Growth

Fast forward to 2025. We don’t live in Babylon, but we live in a culture that worships a similar set of gods as they did: power, control, productivity and success.

Sociologists call this “The Burnout Society.” We exploit ourselves voluntarily in the belief that we are “achieving” something. And sadly, our faith often gets co-opted by this mindset. We measure our spirituality by how much we do, how many chapters read, how many hours served, how many “blessings” accumulated.

But look at the life of Jesus.

Jesus was frustratingly inefficient. Seriously. He walked everywhere. He stopped for interruptions. He spent 30 years in total obscurity before doing three years of public ministry. By American standards, his “launch strategy” was a disaster.

Why? Because love is inefficient. You cannot “optimize” a relationship and there is no shortcut to discipleship.

If you want to actually follow Jesus this year, it might mean failing at being a “successful American.”

It might mean refusing the promotion that kills your family time.

It might mean looking “lazy” because you prioritize Sabbath rest over side-hustles.

It might mean your church doesn’t have the coolest lights or the biggest budget, but it actually knows the needs of the people in your neighborhood.

Walking as an Act of Rebellion

This is where the rubber meets the road. The most confrontational thing you can do in 2026 is to slow down.

Refusing to treat yourself as a commodity is an act of spiritual warfare. When you choose to be slow, present, and faithful in a world that demands you be fast, loud, and famous, you are mimicking the Kingdom of God.

So, let’s stop pretending that a “New Year” requires a “New You.” You don’t need to be reinvented; you need to be restored.

The Challenge:

This week, look at your resolutions. Are they designed to make you more “valuable” to the economy and the culture? Or are they designed to make you more available to God and your neighbor?

Burn the checklist if you have to. The goal isn’t to reach the finish line faster than everyone else. The goal is to walk with Jesus, even if it means everyone else passes you by.

A Prayer for the Un-Optimized Year

God, 

Save us from the noise of the New Year. 

We confess that we are addicted to speed, obsessed with “better,” and terrified of falling behind.

We have swallowed the lie that we are only as valuable as our latest achievement.

Forgive us for trying to hustle our way into holiness.

Forgive us for treating our neighbors as networking opportunities.

Forgive us for treating our souls as projects to be managed.

Slow us down, even if it hurts.

Grant us the courage to be unimpressive in the eyes of the world so that we can be faithful in Yours.

Teach us the rhythm of grace, which has no deadline and requires no application.

Help us to walk through this year not with a clenched jaw and a packed calendar, but with open hands and a quiet heart. 

We are Yours. And that is enough. Amen.