Feeling new year anxiety
Photo: Gerald Farinas.
The confetti has settled and the rush of new year resolutions has likely started to meet the reality of daily life. For many of us, the start of a year isn't just a clean slate. It can be a time of real anxiety.
We carry the weight of what we didn't finish last year and the pressure of everything we want to change. There is a specific kind of discomfort in this time, a feeling of being caught between our past mistakes and our future hopes, often while feeling tired and unprepared.
This is the season when many of us feel a desperate urge to buy our way into a better version of ourselves. We spend money on gym memberships we might not use, expensive bins and labels to organize closets that are already full, or a mountain of self-help books and videos that promise to fix our lives.
We often feel that if we just buy the right tool or follow the right expert, our seasonal anxiety will disappear. But these things often just add to our stress and leave us feeling like we have failed when the initial excitement wears off.
I feel this tension deeply right now because I am in the middle of a major transitional period. I am moving between callings and careers, shifting away from one industry and toward another. With that kind of change comes a lot of uncertainty.
I think of how many afternoons I have spent at Haibayô coffee shop on Argyle Street, sitting with my MacBook and scrolling through lists of new things I feel like I should already know. I find myself getting anxious about upcoming interactions that I know will affect how this new year unfolds for me. In those moments at the coffee shop, the pressure to "figure it all out" can feel overwhelming.
The scripture appointed for today in the Presbyterian Church (USA) Daily Prayer book—there’s an app for that if you don’t want to use an old fashioned breviary—Jeremiah 31:7-14, speaks directly to this feeling of being overwhelmed:
For thus says the Lord: Sing aloud with gladness for Jacob, and raise shouts for the chief of the nations; proclaim, give praise, and say, “Save, O Lord, your people, the remnant of Israel.” See, I am going to bring them from the land of the north and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth, among them the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, together; a great company, they shall return here. With weeping they shall come, and with consolations I will lead them back; I will let them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble, for I have become a father to Israel, and Ephraim is my firstborn.
Hear the word of the Lord, O nations, and declare it in the coastlands far away; say, “He who scattered Israel will gather him and will keep him as a shepherd a flock.” For the Lord has ransomed Jacob and has redeemed him from hands too strong for him. They shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion, and they shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, over the grain, the wine, and the oil, and over the young of the flock and the herd; their life shall become like a watered garden, and they shall never languish again. Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them and give them gladness for sorrow. I will give the priests their fill of fatness, and my people shall be satisfied with my bounty, says the Lord.
This passage is a song of healing for a people who knew what it felt like to be scattered and weary.
What is so helpful for us today is that God doesn't just call for the strong or the successful to come home. The prophet specifically mentions the blind, the lame, and those in labor.
This isn't a fast-paced march for the fit or those who have every professional skill mastered. It is a homecoming for people who might be struggling just to keep up.
If you feel a bit "lame" or "blind" as you start these first weeks of January, these words offer you a sense of peace. The promise of God isn't based on you having your life perfectly organized by the first of the month or having a perfect transition into a new career.
Instead, the passage promises that God will lead us by quiet streams on a path where we won't stumble. It admits that the journey includes crying, but it promises that those tears will be met with comfort. The worry we feel about our future interactions is met by a Shepherd who watches over us.
The discomfort of the new year often comes from the fear that we aren't doing enough. We feel like we have to reinvent ourselves overnight using whatever products or information are being sold to us.
Yet, Jeremiah describes a life that becomes like a watered garden. This growth comes from God’s goodness rather than our own hard work or our latest purchases. The sadness is turned into joy, and gladness replaces the heavy feeling of stress.
This is the heart of the message for our community. Healing is not a project we have to buy or finish on our own. It is a gift that finds us when we are tired.
As we move through this month, we can let go of the pressure to be perfect. We can trust that we are being cared for exactly as we are right now, whether we are sitting in a coffee shop on Argyle or at our kitchen table.
The light we see in the people in this text comes from God, not from a LA Fitness membership, a new planner, or a self-improvement video.
We are invited to settle into the quiet moments of January and trust that the path ahead is being made smooth for us, one step at a time.
