Begin Again... and Again

What I'm Leaving Behind in 2026

I’m the person who genuinely loves New Year’s Day.

Not the parties. Not the ball drops or the champagne toasts (though I’m not mad at them). I mean the actual day; that quiet, sometimes hungover morning when the whole world seems to take a collective breath and whisper, “Okay. Here we go.”

Some people find New Year’s resolutions annoying; and I get it, I really do. The diet industry alone has turned January 1st into a guilt machine. But underneath all the noise, something sacred is happening. Something ancient. Something God.

Because here’s what I’ve learned: The God we serve is relentlessly, almost ridiculously committed to fresh starts.

The Theology of Mornings

I love mornings. I love Mondays. (Yes, I’m that person too—feel free to unsubscribe now.) But hear me out.

There’s a rhythm woven into the fabric of creation itself. Evening and morning, the first day. Evening and morning, the second day. God didn’t just create the world; God built beginning into its very structure. Every single day arrives with the invitation to start again.

The prophet Jeremiah, writing from the rubble of his shattered world, penned words that have carried me through more dark seasons than I can count: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22-23).

Every. Single. Morning.

Not just January 1st. Not just after we’ve sufficiently punished ourselves. Not just when we’ve finally gotten our act together. Every morning, God rolls out fresh mercy like dawn breaking over the horizon—ready, waiting, yours.

This is grace in its most practical form: the invitation to begin again... and again... and again.

What I’m Leaving in 2025

If I’m honest, 2025 asked a lot of me. Maybe it asked a lot of you too.

This year I’m intentionally leaving behind:

Hurry. The breathless rushing from one thing to the next, arriving everywhere but being truly present nowhere. I’m done with the lie that says faster is faithful. I want slower mornings. I want to actually taste my coffee instead of inhaling it on the way out the door. I want margin and space and room for the Spirit to interrupt my agenda.

The temptation to curate a perfect life. Social media has trained us to edit our existence into something polished and palatable. But curated isn’t the same as true, and perfect isn’t the same as whole. I want to live my actual life—the messy, ordinary, sacred one—instead of constantly managing how it appears.

Scarcity thinking. The lie that there isn’t enough—enough time, enough energy, enough hope, enough goodness to go around. The Kingdom of God has never operated on scarcity. There’s a feast being prepared, and the table is bigger than we imagine.

What I’m Embracing in 2026

As we step into this new year together, I’m reaching toward:

Grounded mornings. I’ve become increasingly convinced that how we begin our days shapes everything that follows. Not perfectly executed morning routines (please, I’m still trying to remember where I put my coffee half the time), but intentional rhythms that tether us to what’s true before the chaos sets in.

Slow faithfulness over impressive impact. I want to be faithful in the quiet, unseen places. I want to show up consistently for the people in front of me rather than chasing the approval of people I’ll never meet.

The spiritual practice of delight. Joy isn’t naive. It’s actually one of the most subversive, counter-cultural postures we can adopt in a cynical age. I want to notice beauty, savor goodness, and receive the ordinary gifts of each day as evidence of God’s relentless kindness.

Great is Your Faithfulness

That phrase from Lamentations has become something of a heartbeat for me. Great is your faithfulness. Not great is my discipline. Not great is my willpower. Not great is my ability to finally get it right this year.

Great is your faithfulness, God.

Every morning—every Monday, every New Year, every breath—is an invitation to receive what God has already extended. We’re not climbing toward grace; we’re waking up inside of it.

This is what I call the Great Morning Revolution. Not a self-improvement project. Not another thing to add to your already overcrowded to-do list. It’s a gentle, grace-soaked reorientation toward the God who meets us in the ordinary moments before the day sweeps us away.

Join Me?

I’d love for you to walk into 2026 with me—not alone, but together. Here are two ways to join the Great Morning Revolution:

Online Bible Study (Starting January 19!)

Change your entire day by how you start your morning. In The Great Morning Revolution Online Bible Study, you’ll learn 5 simple practices that will set your day with joy and peace. Using the GREAT framework—Gratitude, Reflect, Exalt, Ask, Trust—you’ll build a gentle, flexible morning practice to deepen your relationship with God.

When you join, you’ll get FREE access to:

• 6 teaching videos

• Morning rhythm charts and habit trackers

• A “Good mornings!” worship playlist

• And more resources to support your journey toward more peaceful, joy-filled, God-centered mornings

We kick off January 19—come join us!

JOIN ME FOR ONLINE BIBLE STUDY

Seedbed 3-Week Course (Starting January 12!)

Want to go deeper? I’m partnering with Dan Wilt for a special 3-week live learning experience through Seedbed. We’ll gather together on Monday nights (January 12, 19, and 26, 6:30-8:00 PM) to explore the heart of The Great Morning Revolution together.

Course Details:

• 3 weeks, 90 minutes per session

• Based on the book (included in the experience)

• Can’t attend live? No problem—sessions will be recorded and available in your account

JOIN ME FOR SEEDBED 3 WEEK COURSE

Here’s what I know for sure: The God who invented morning is in the business of new beginnings. Whatever 2025 held for you—whether it was marked by deep joy or crushing grief or (most likely) some holy mixture of both—you’re being invited to begin again.

Not because you’ve earned it.

Because you’re loved.

So take a breath. Look toward the horizon. The mercies are new this morning—and they’ll be new again tomorrow.

Let’s step into this new year together.

With hope and holy anticipation,

Tara Beth