I used to hate January.
There, I said it.
It felt like the month that showed up uninvited, gray skies, cold mornings, the glitter gone, the adrenaline of December completely spent. For years, I treated January like something to get through instead of something to lean into.
But then my perspective shifted.
I realized I was bringing the wrong expectations into the month. I was asking January to be what it was never meant to be. It’s not July. It’s not December. It’s not a sprint month. January is a tucking-in month. The rhythm of winter is quiet in nature. Animals are hibernating, and nature is dormant. So I started leaning into what was already evident around me. And once I stopped fighting it, I decided that I actually like January. I definitely still believe in planning and positioning yourself for the new year. Vision boards, goal setting, all of it. I believe in dreaming boldly, writing it down, and partnering with God for what’s ahead.
I just no longer believe it all has to be rushed. January doesn’t eliminate vision; it actually incubates it. So yes, I gather the words. I pinned the pictures. I write the goals. But I hold them loosely through January. I don’t force them into action mode before they’ve had time to breathe. I would define January more as a time for alignment rather than execution. After all, the new year doesn’t need a running start. Somewhere along the way, we decided the year had to begin at full speed. Vision boards finished by January 2nd. Goals announced..
But God is okay with slow beginnings. After all, most things God does begin in seed form.
Creation didn’t explode into being all at once. Jesus didn’t launch His ministry the moment He could speak. Scripture is full of slow starts, hidden seasons, and quiet preparation.
I give myself permission to begin slowly, not because I’m unmotivated, but because I’m listening, praying, and taking it all in.
January has become the month I stay tucked in. Not withdrawn. Not disengaged. Just intentionally quieter. I linger in the Word instead of racing through a plan. I journal more than I post. I ask better questions instead of expecting faster answers. Some things are meant to marinate.
We often want clarity without waiting. Direction without stillness. Fruit without roots. January is where I let God plant things I won’t see yet.
Ideas.
Direction.
Promises.
I don’t need them fully formed. I don’t need them to be Instagram-ready. Most of the time, God whispers the blueprint before He builds the structure, and January gives space for this to happen.
Winter doesn’t mean nothing is happening. It means everything important is happening underground. January is not a dead month, but rather it’s a deep one. Roots are growing. And honestly? That’s the best kind of growth now.
So how do I January?
I still set intentions. I still dream. I still believe in a full, abundant year. But I do it softly. Without pressure or feeling rushed, with a God pace rather than my pace.
January is no longer the month I dread; it’s the month I protect.
Because what God does in the quiet often becomes the loudest testimony later.
So if you’re feeling behind, unmotivated, or slower than you think you “should” be, maybe you’re not late at all.
Maybe you’re right on time.
And maybe January isn’t asking you to run.
Maybe it’s inviting you to listen, and trust what’s growing beneath the surface.
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