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Romans 12:1–2
“I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”

The first day of a new year always carries a sacred hush about it. The world is waking slowly from celebration, but the Christian must wake with intention. Before the calendar fills, before responsibilities press in, before the noise resumes its relentless hum—God invites us to begin the year on the altar. Romans 12 is not a gentle suggestion; it is the pleading of a God who desires all of us, not part of us. Today is not about resolutions. It is about surrender.

To present ourselves as a “living sacrifice” is a strange image at first glance. Sacrifices die once. But living sacrifices must choose the altar again and again. A new year is God’s gracious reminder that we are prone to wander off that altar—to reclaim what we once surrendered, to snatch back control He never asked us to hold. He calls us to climb back up onto the place where flesh dies and freedom lives.

This surrender is not born out of fear but “by the mercies of God.” His mercies are the backdrop of our obedience. We do not yield ourselves to earn His love but because His love has already rescued, redeemed, and remade us. Mercy makes surrender reasonable. Mercy makes obedience joyful. Mercy makes holiness desirable. The sinner surrenders in desperation; the saint surrenders in devotion.

Paul warns us not to be “conformed to this world.” Conformity is easy, subtle, and quiet. It happens when we simply drift. But transformation—true spiritual renewal—requires intention. It calls us to renewed minds, refined affections, and realigned priorities. Transformation is never accidental. It is always chosen.

As you step into 2026, pause long enough to lay down what you’ve been clinging to. Perhaps it is fear. Perhaps it is bitterness. Perhaps it is perfectionism. Perhaps it is the quiet belief that if you hold all things together, you can keep yourself from falling apart. But God never called you to hold everything—He called you to present everything.

This year will hold its share of battles and blessings, triumphs and trials. But the believer who begins the year surrendered begins from a place of strength—not weakness. The altar is not a place of death for God’s people; it is the birthplace of renewed life. So begin here, where grace meets obedience and mercy meets resolve.

Climb onto the altar today. The God who receives your surrender will shape your year in ways you could never shape on your own.