Resolving to Love Yourself
A Reflection on New Years’ Resolutions
I have a complicated relationship with New Year’s resolutions.
They remind me a little of my equally complicated relationship with Lenten disciplines—especially the modern trend of taking something on rather than giving something up. To be clear right from the start: this is not a rejection of healthy striving or gradual sanctification. I believe deeply in both. I strive to grow in discipline. I strive to keep my body healthy and whole. I strive to be attentive to how I speak to and relate to other people, especially those closest to me. I strive to learn, to grow, to stretch my intellect and my imagination. All of that is good and faithful work. We know—both spiritually and neurologically—that setting goals can help us move in those directions. Resolutions and disciplines that draw us closer to God and neighbor, that help us become more loving, patient, generous, and whole, are worthy and laudable. I have nothing objectively against New Year’s resolutions.
What gives me pause is something else.
What I often hear—sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly—from friends, neighbors, and even from my own inner voice, are resolutions that are not rooted in sanctification or growth in grace, but in shame. Resolutions born not from love, but from a sense that something is defective or broken and must be fixed immediately. Disciplines framed as a way to overcome what we dislike about ourselves. And I want to say plainly: that posture is not spiritually neutral. I think it is a spiritual malady.
At the end of the day, resolutions or disciplines that arise from self-loathing or a sense of lack are not just unhelpful; they run counter to God’s intended order.
In the creation story in Genesis, there is a subtle but profound shift that is easy to miss in English. Again and again, God creates and declares what God has made to be “good.” Light—good. Land and sea—good. Plants and animals—good. But after humanity is created, the language changes. God looks upon creation, now including humankind, and declares it not merely good, but very good. In the Hebrew, that intensification matters. Humanity is not an afterthought or a problem to be managed; humanity is created because God delights in creatures who can praise, adore, and respond in love. We are, astonishingly, part of what delights God in creation.
That matters when we talk about sanctification. Growth in holiness, discipline, and virtue must be born from love and refinement, not rejection. From care, not contempt.
Take the most common New Year’s resolution: exercise. It’s hard not to notice the flood of gym memberships, diet plans, and wellness ads right now. The market knows what time of year this is. We’ve just come through weeks of feasting and disrupted routines. Many of us feel sluggish or out of practice, and industries are ready to capitalize on that discomfort.
That same goal—moving our bodies—can be interpreted in two radically different ways. Healthy striving says: God has given me a body, and I am called to be a steward of it. I will nourish it, move it, rest it, and care for it because it is a gift. I will maintain and hold fast to what is good. Unhealthy striving says: I don’t like what I see in the mirror. I am ashamed. So I will punish my body with deprivation, push it past wisdom, and risk harm in order to become more acceptable. Same resolution. Entirely different spirit.
The same dynamic applies to nearly every area of life—how much we drink, how we spend our time, how we read and learn, how we pray. The commandment Jesus gives is to love God with all our heart, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. That last phrase matters more than we often admit. We cannot love our neighbor well if we have no idea what loving ourselves—in body, mind, and soul—actually looks like. Love of self is not narcissism; it is the necessary soil from which love of neighbor grows.
So let me say this as clearly as I know how: nothing you do, nothing you resolve to do, no resolution you make and keep, will make you more worthy of love than you already are in this moment. There is no change, no achievement, no discipline that will make you more lovable to God than the person God already sees and delights in.
As we begin a new celestial year—yes, even though the Church already started the new liturgical year back on Advent 1—I invite you to measure any resolutions you make by love and sanctification. Are they helping you grow toward wholeness, stewardship, and grace? Or are they attempts to punish yourself into being worthy?
You are worthy of love already. Created in God’s image. Declared very good. May whatever striving you take on this year begin there.
Pax et Bonum!
Fr. Ben +
