The Beauty of Starting Again Isaiah 55:6–13

I remember a conversation with someone who told me that every January feels heavy. Not because they are afraid of what is coming, but because of what is still following them. They said, “Every new beginning reminds me of what I did not finish, what I did not fix, what I meant to do differently.” They were not looking for advice nor asking for a solution. They were naming a truth many of us live with. Starting over sounds hopeful, but it can also feel exposing.

There are times when the soul tires of carrying its own history. Not the good moments, but the difficult ones. The choices we replay. The prayers we intended to pray. The roads we swore we would never walk again, yet somehow did. When we reach passages like Isaiah 55, we are not seeking inspiration. We are questioning if God is still willing.
“Turn to the Lord,” the prophet says. Not to explain yourself or clean yourself up, not to make promises about never failing again, but simply to turn. To face God again, just as you are. That simple movement, that quiet reorientation of the heart, is met not with judgment but with mercy.

Mercy is not a shallow act of kindness. It is not God sighing and letting things go. Mercy is God leaning forward toward us. Mercy is forgiveness given freely, without bargaining. The kind of forgiveness that leaves no receipt.

Isaiah reminds us that God’s thoughts are not our thoughts. That matters because our thoughts often say, “I should know better by now.” God’s thoughts say, “Come back.” Our ways rehearse shame. God’s ways make room for return.

Starting again is not about acting like the past never happened. God does not wipe our memory clean but works through it, redeeming what has already been lived. Grace falls like rain on soil that has been dry for a long time, soaking in slowly. Beneath the surface, seeds are breaking open where no one can see the work taking place. And with that breaking comes new life, not rushed or forced, but growing quietly, rising when it is ready.
That slow, hidden work looks different in each of us. Some of us reach for a fresh start because hope is stirring. Others reach for it because we are tired and have nothing left to carry. God does not ask us to sort out our reasons. God meets us where we are, with the same grace. You do not have to be strong to begin again. You just have to be willing to take the next faithful step, turn toward God, and trust God for what comes next.

And this is it: Isaiah ends with joy breaking out in places that were quiet. Mountains singing. Trees clapping. Creation responds to mercy as if it has been waiting for this moment. That tells us something. When we start again with God, it is never just about us. Grace ripples outward, bringing life where things have been quiet and reminding others that beginning again is possible.

Hear this: starting again is beautiful because God is in it. God walks with us through the awkward first steps, the uncertainty, the fear of repeating old patterns. God does not rush us but stays. And that is enough.

Pray with me: Merciful God, I bring you the parts of my life that feel worn and unfinished. I turn toward you again, not with answers, but with trust. Thank you for meeting me with grace instead of judgment. Give me the courage to begin again today, knowing you walk with me. Amen.

Written by Rev. Kay Dubuisson