OPINION: New Year’s Resolutions and Other Myths We Tell Ourselves

By That One Pastor Who Still Believes in Miracles,
Even After Trying to Assemble IKEA Furniture

As the calendar flips to January—because apparently time insists on moving forward whether we’re ready or not—Americans everywhere are once again drafting their annual list of New Year’s resolutions. These are the same resolutions we made last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, like a Hallmark movie plot that keeps getting recycled with slightly different actors.

We all know the classics:
• “I’m going to eat healthier.”
(Translation: I will buy kale, let it wilt in the fridge, and then throw it away with a sense of moral superiority.)
• “I’m going to exercise more.”
(Translation: I will wear athleisure clothing while sitting on the couch.)
• “I’m going to get organized.”
(Translation: I will buy a planner so beautiful it intimidates me, then never write in it.)

But here’s the thing: resolutions are basically promises we make to ourselves while hopped up on leftover Christmas sugar and the delusion that a new calendar equals a new personality.

Which brings me to a radical proposal for 2026:
What if we skipped the resolutions and followed Jesus instead?

Now, before you roll your eyes and say, “Pastor, that sounds like the churchy version of ‘live, laugh, love,’” hear me out. Following Jesus is not the safe, predictable, color-coded planner life we imagine. It’s not even the tidy “new year, new me” vibe we try to manufacture every January.

Following Jesus is… well… an adventure.

And not the kind of adventure where you book a cruise and spend seven days eating shrimp cocktail. I mean the kind where you wake up and say, “Lord, I have no idea what You’re doing today, but please don’t let it involve snakes, public speaking, or me having to apologize to someone before coffee.”

Jesus has a way of inviting us into things we never would’ve put on our resolution list:
• “Love your enemies.”
(Not on anyone’s planner.)
• “Forgive seventy times seven.”
(Also not on anyone’s planner.)
• “Feed my sheep.”
(We prefer feeding ourselves.)
• “Take up your cross.”
(Definitely not on the planner.)

But here’s the twist: while our resolutions tend to fizzle out by mid-January—right around the time the gym parking lot empties and the kale turns brown—Jesus’ invitations don’t depend on our willpower. They depend on His grace.

And grace, unlike my treadmill, actually works.

Following Jesus won’t give you a slimmer waistline or a color-coded pantry, but it will give you something far better: purpose, joy, courage, and the kind of hope that doesn’t expire on January 31.

So this year, instead of resolving to become a slightly improved version of yourself, maybe resolve to follow the One who already knows who you’re becoming.
It’s riskier. It’s wilder. It’s holier.

And yes—it’s far more adventurous than kale.

Happy New Year, friends. May your 2026 be full of grace, laughter, and the kind of holy surprises that make you say, “Only Jesus could’ve pulled that off.”