You're Already Behind on Your 2026 Goals (And That's Exactly the Point)

You know that feeling, don’t you?

It’s December 28th. Christmas is over. The wrapping paper’s been thrown away. The leftovers are questionable at best. And you’re waking up every morning thinking, “What day is it even?”

We’re in that weird liminal space between what was and what’s coming. And if you’re anything like me, you’re already feeling it—that pressure starting to build. That voice whispering: Do more. Be better. Fix everything.

2026 is coming, and with it comes all those possibilities you’re supposed to seize. Maybe you’re thinking this is finally the year you’ll get your finances in order, or your health dialed in, or read through the entire Bible. Maybe you’re excited about all those fresh starts and new beginnings.

Or maybe you’re already exhausted just thinking about it.

Here’s what I’ve learned: A lot of us approach the new year like there’s an invisible scoreboard, and somehow we’re already behind before we even start.

Last year, I set a ton of goals. By April, I was staring at that list thinking, “Yeah... most of these are off the table now.” It was humbling. And uncomfortable. Because that weight of expectations—of past failures, of circumstances beyond our control—it just piles up.

Maybe you’re heading into 2026 thinking, “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this year.” Financial stress. Job uncertainty. Real struggles that keep you up at night.

Or maybe you’re on the opposite end, thinking everything looks pretty good, and you just need to beat the market again and you’ll be set.

Or maybe you’re like me—somewhere in the middle, trying to figure out how to be faithful in a thousand small decisions. Like, how do I balance my kids’ sports with family time and being present for what matters? How do I give like I want to give when I’m not sure I have the margin? How do I make time for that friend when my schedule is already overflowing?

These questions weigh on us. They create anxiety. They pile up until we’re buried under the weight of it all.

Into this exact feeling, Jesus speaks some of the most comforting—and confronting—words in all of Scripture. From Matthew 6:

“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life... Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store in barns, for your heavenly father feeds them. Aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are?”

Did you catch how many times Jesus says “don’t worry” in this passage? Five times. When the Bible repeats something five times in a few verses, it’s like flashing lights: Pay attention to this.

But here’s the thing—Jesus isn’t being dismissive. He’s not giving you some toxic positivity nonsense like, “Don’t worry about it, man. The universe has your back.”

You know that friend who tells you “don’t worry about it” when you’re spiraling over something that actually matters? Yeah, it feels more like a threat than comfort. That’s not what Jesus is doing here.

Jesus is speaking to people with very real economic problems. Fishermen who don’t eat if the fish don’t bite that day. Farmers who face ruin if there’s a drought. These aren’t people worried about their 401k contributions—they’re worried about literal survival.

And Jesus says, “Let’s go on a nature walk.”

I’m not kidding. He literally says, “Look at the birds. Look at the flowers.”

If one of my kids suggested we look at birds when we’re trying to figure out how to pay for college, I’d have some words for them. It doesn’t sound helpful in the moment.

But remember: Jesus is the Word of God in flesh. When he talks about creation, it carries the same power as when God spoke the universe into existence in Genesis 1. When Jesus talks, you need to pay attention.

He points to the birds: they don’t plant, harvest, or build storage facilities. Yet your heavenly Father feeds them. He points to wildflowers: they don’t work or make anything, yet God clothes them with a beauty that surpasses Solomon’s wardrobe—the guy who, in their memory, was the wealthiest person who ever lived. That’s like saying wildflowers wear better clothes than Elon Musk. It’s unimaginable.

And then Jesus drops the key phrase, repeated throughout this passage: Your heavenly Father.

As a dad, I read this differently now than I did before I had kids. When my son comes to me and says, “Hey, my shoes are worn out” or “My pants are too short,” I want to take care of that. That’s what fathers do.

Jesus is telling us: you have a heavenly Father who takes care of you. Not a dismissive acquaintance. Not some cosmic vending machine. A Father.

When we live consumed by worry, piling up security measures and contingency plans, we’re living as if we don’t have a Father. We’re functionally atheist—acting like God won’t do what He said He’d do. We’re saying, “I’m responsible for securing my own survival.”

That’s exhausting. And it was never supposed to be our burden to carry.

This idea that something could be more valuable than money isn’t original with Jesus. It’s woven throughout the book of Proverbs, written a thousand years before:

“Wisdom is more profitable than silver, and her wages are better than gold. Wisdom is more precious than rubies. Nothing you desire can compete with her.”

“Choose a good reputation over great riches.”

There’s this thread running through ancient Jewish wisdom: There is something more valuable than anything you can accumulate.

Want to know what it is?

Character. Wisdom. Living obediently to God and shaping yourself to reflect His nature.

Someone won $1.8 billion in the lottery last week in Arkansas. According to Jesus and the wisdom tradition He’s standing in, developing your character is more valuable than that.

That’s radical. Most people won’t just nod and say, “Yeah, character beats money.” But that’s exactly what Jesus is saying.

And it reframes everything.

You’ve seen those guys on talent shows who balance lawnmowers on their chins while climbing ladders, right? Or the plate spinners with dozens of plates twirling on sticks?

Sometimes we treat our lives like that. We see people on Instagram who seem to have it all balanced—perfect parent, perfect job, amazing vacations, retirement contributions, house projects completed, and that nice new truck. We think, “If I just work hard enough, I could balance all that too.”

But here’s the question Jesus is asking: Why do you feel pressure to balance it all when what you really need to do is put things in order?

“Seek first the kingdom of God, and all these other things will be added to you.”

When things are in proper order, you don’t have to balance everything because everything has its place. Everything has meaning. Everything fulfills the purpose God intended.

John Chrysostom—a pastor who lived 1,600 years ago (they called him “Golden Mouth” because he was apparently an incredible preacher)—told his affluent congregation something that still stings today:

“If you live your life trying to accumulate security, trusting in your stuff or money or connections for your future, you’re not actually trusting God. You’re saying God’s not reliable.”

Ouch. (Remember, that wasn’t me—that was John Chrysostom 1,600 years ago.)

Look, we need money to eat and buy clothes and live. Obviously. But when financial security becomes our goal, our organizing principle, we’re saying we don’t really believe God is a good Father to us.

John Calvin offered a different frame that I find really helpful. Sometimes you do have to plan for the future and take care of things. The question we should all be asking is:

“How will this choice enable me to live more effectively in God’s kingdom?”

I’m not saying you have to spend all your time at church. I’m saying God has called you—uniquely you—to live in particular ways that only you can do. He’s made you to relate to people and contribute to this world in ways no one else can.

So when you face a decision, ask: How does this impact my ability to live the way God created me to live?

Maybe your job provides benefits for thousands of people. Maybe you’re able to support extended family who needs help. I don’t know what your thing is. I can’t see inside your heart, and neither can anyone else—not even your spouse or closest friend.

But God can. He knows the “why” behind every decision. And Jesus is telling us that we need to align our hearts with seeking His kingdom first.

If you’re obsessively controlling every variable, losing sleep, unable to be generous because you’re terrified about the future—that’s anxiety revealing unbelief.

But Jesus isn’t anti-planning. He’s not against providing for your family. He’s against idolatry. He’s against you putting anything above God.

Philippians 4 says, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

Notice what it doesn’t say: “If you’re a believer, you won’t have any needs.” It doesn’t say real challenges won’t exist.

It says: Take those worries to God. Take them to your Father.

We face real stuff. Medical bills. Lightning strikes. Car accidents. (My biggest challenge is coming in April—I’ll have two teenage drivers in my house. Pray for me.)

God’s not saying you’re not allowed to have troubles. He’s saying when you have challenges, bring them to your Father.

Here we are, about to flip the calendar to a new year. You’ve probably been thinking about goals and plans. Maybe you’ve started feeling that weight I described at the beginning.

I want to encourage you: Don’t do what I did last year. Don’t make a giant list of goals.

Instead, plan to do one thing. One simple thing:

Seek first the kingdom.

Not “seek first the kingdom AND get in shape AND fix your finances AND spend more time with your kids.” Just put God first.

It doesn’t mean reading your Bible eight hours a day or living at church. It means asking: “God, in this decision right before me, which choice is more aligned with the purpose You created me for? How does this align with Your will in my life?”

Make that relationship with God—knowing Him, loving Him, obeying Him—the organizing principle of your life in 2026 and see what happens.

I’m not promising you’ll become mega-wealthy. Jesus never says you’ll get everything you’ve ever dreamed of. He says you’ll have enough. You’ll have what you need for kingdom living.

And honestly? Both of those things are good.

So what’s weighing on you right now as you head into 2026?

What would it look like to take that to your Father instead of carrying it alone?

What decision are you facing where you need to ask: “How does this choice help me live more effectively in God’s kingdom?”

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Hit reply and let me know what resonated with you—or what you’re wrestling with as we head into this new year.

Because here’s what I’ve learned: We’re all trying to figure this out. And sometimes the most helpful thing is knowing we’re not alone in the struggle.

Seeking first the kingdom with you,

-Justin

P.S. If this resonated with you, I’d love to continue the conversation. Reply to this email—I read and respond to every message.