You may have read Psalm 25 recently—or perhaps it’s new to you—but its prayer is striking: a soul opening wide to God in trust and vulnerability. It’s not just a cry for rescue; it’s a plea for direction. Psalm 25 rises out of fear and uncertainty, yet it boldly declares, “Even though I don’t know what’s coming next, I choose to trust you anyway” (Psalm 25:4–5).
That’s the posture of someone ready for a fresh start. Not just a spiritual tune-up, but a complete reorientation—of priorities, direction, and identity.
The Courage to Begin Again
We usually think of fresh starts as exciting: a new job, a new relationship, a new season. But the kind of fresh start that truly changes us often begins when we realize we can’t continue on as we are. When what once worked no longer does. And that takes more than enthusiasm. It takes courage (Ephesians 4:22–24).
I remember the first time I saw the Serenity Prayer. I was about ten years old. It hung on a kitchen calendar—quiet, but unforgettable:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.
Even as a child, my world already felt unpredictable. That prayer settled into my spirit like a seed.
Years later, emotionally shut down and exhausted, I heard it again—spoken aloud in a room full of people seeking healing through Celebrate Recovery. That was the beginning of my own fresh start. Not because everything magically improved, but because I stopped trying to hold it all together on my own (Matthew 11:28).
Healing, I learned, wasn’t about control. It was about surrender. And courage. And showing up—again and again—to let God change me from the inside out (Romans 12:2).
That kind of transformation required me to lay something down—pride, assumptions, control—before I could pick up something better (1 Peter 5:6–7).
Are You Sure You’re Up for This?
That’s the question I’m holding out today: Are you sure you’re up for this?
Not because following Jesus is some kind of trap—but because it’s not always what we expect.
Sometimes the fresh start God offers doesn’t make life easier. It makes it deeper (John 10:10). It calls us to release what we think we know—and take hold of something that may be heavier, but far more life-giving.
That’s what the disciples encounter in Mark 8:27–38. Jesus asks them, “Who do you say that I am?” (v. 29). Peter gets the words right: “You are the Messiah”. But he misses the meaning.
Like many of us, Peter assumed the Messiah would come in power, in victory, in a way that avoids pain and sidesteps loss. He believed—but misunderstood. And Jesus rebukes him (v. 33), not because Peter is foolish, but because misunderstanding the nature of Jesus’ mission is dangerous.
The heart of the Gospel is not about control or conquest, but about self-giving love. About the cross.
A Fresh Start on God’s Terms
Jesus doesn’t fit anyone’s expectations. In Mark 8:31, he says:
“The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected… and be killed, and after three days rise again.”
This is a fresh start on God’s terms—not ours. It redefines what power looks like, what leadership means, and how new life is born (Isaiah 53:3–5).
Throughout the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is already breaking boundaries—healing Gentiles, feeding outsiders, touching the untouchable (Mark 7–8). That kind of compassion was risky. Even offensive. But it was the shape of his mission.
“Those who are well have no need of a physician… I have come to call not the righteous but sinners” (Mark 2:17).
He didn’t come just to be admired. He came to invite us to join him. That’s why he says:
“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mark 8:34).
Not suffer for suffering’s sake. But suffer for love’s sake. For the sake of healing. For the sake of those still on the outside.
Discipleship is not about denying your worth. It’s about loosening your grip on control—over your image, your outcomes, even your spirituality—and re-centering your life on Christ (Philippians 2:5–8).
“Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it” (Mark 8:35).
That’s not a theory. It’s a lived reality.
The Paradox of Surrender
When I walked into that Celebrate Recovery gathering, I was spiritually dry and emotionally exhausted. I didn’t know what I needed. I just knew I couldn’t keep going the way I was.
I had always been the one trying to hold everything together. But recovery taught me that my perfectionism wasn’t strength—it was fear. And that fear was slowly destroying me.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight.” (Proverbs 3:5)
Denying myself didn’t mean erasing my identity. It meant surrendering my fear-driven need to manage everything. It meant trusting God with my life—one day at a time.
That’s the Fresh Start Jesus offers. Not once. But daily (Lamentations 3:22–23).
And yes, it comes with risk—because it requires vulnerability. But it also comes with resurrection. The slow, beautiful work of becoming whole again.
Where Might God Be Inviting You to a Fresh Start?
Maybe you’ve had a picture of what following Jesus should look like—and that picture didn’t include struggle, or loss, or letting go.
Maybe you’ve assumed faith would make things easier or more certain. But Jesus never promised comfort—Jesus promised life. And often, that life begins where our self-reliance ends (2 Corinthians 12:9).
So where might you be resisting the kind of fresh start Jesus is offering?
Where are you still holding on—to your image, your fear, your control?
“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:10)
You don’t have to be at rock bottom to begin again. But you do have to be honest.
Honest about your expectations of God. Honest about what’s no longer working. Honest about what you need to surrender.
That’s the beginning of discipleship. That’s the beginning of healing. That’s the beginning of a Fresh Start.
What Kind of Church Will We Be?
A fresh start isn’t just personal—it’s communal.
Jesus didn’t just call the disciples—he called the crowd too (Mark 8:34). This path of surrender and self-giving love isn’t just for the spiritual elite. It’s for all of us. Together.
“Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)
So what does it mean for us, as a church, to take up our cross?
What do we need to lay down—maybe old assumptions or cherished comfort—for the sake of those Jesus loves who aren’t here yet?
How can we make space for people who are carrying shame, grief, addiction—those who feel unwelcome or unseen?
“Welcome one another… just as Christ has welcomed you.” (Romans 15:7)
A church that follows Jesus won’t be known only for Sunday mornings. It will be known by the crosses we bear on behalf of others. It will be a place where fresh starts are possible.
Are You Sure You’re Up for This?
So I’ll ask you again: Are you sure you’re up for this?
Not because Jesus wants to scare you off—but because Jesus wants you to know what’s at stake.
Following him means surrender. It means risk. It means letting go of what we thought would save us—and trusting that real life begins at the foot of the cross.
“And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)
You don’t walk this path alone. Jesus goes before you. And you walk in community—with grace, with honesty, with room for as many fresh starts as you need.
May we be the kind of people—and the kind of church—who say yes.
Pieces of the Puzzle 