The Year of Nothing New
- Jan 11
- 5 min read
Updated: Jan 17
In 2017, I was a single mom. I worked from home as a freelance editor and writer, choosing flexible hours over a steady paycheck so that I could spend more time with my then four-year-old and avoid sending her daycare.
It was hard.
Emotionally, physically—but especially financially—I was just drained. An entry from my prayer journal during this time (dated July 10, 2017) captures my experience well:
If I’m learning anything from Joshua [what I was reading at the time], it’s that You can make things really hard or really easy—all that matters is that I live according to Your Word. So Lord, that’s what I want to do right now. I’m in a season of confusion, frustration. I haven’t had work … I don’t know why … I’m anxious about my future, about how to pay my bills. But I’m trying to place my hope and trust in You.
I wrote that prayer (and many others like it) in the months leading up to January 2018, when I decided to do something I’d never done before: take a year off from buying anything new.


It also mattered that I had been reading Walden at the time, a classic book by Henry David Thoreau (written in 1854) about stripping things back and (re)connecting with nature and discovering what you really need (not want) and what really matters in life. (I recommend the book if you’ve never read it!)
Here’s an excerpt from Walden that I copied into my journal in December 2017:
“Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind.” (p. 115)

So on December 18, 2017, I wrote this entry and made a resolution:
I think [Walden] has been the inspiration of my New Year’s resolution for 2018—to not buy any new clothes, shoes, purses, or jewelry in 2018, and this to break me away from my worship of novelty … I had never really thought about “the love of novelty” being an idol for me and something that stands in the way of my contentment for what I have, something that keeps me from valuing/appreciating the old … not to mention something that causes anxiety in my life because I spend money I don’t have set aside for that purpose and end up, unnecessarily, spreading myself too thin.
My Love of New
For sure, my New Year's resolution in 2018 was motivated by a lack of finances, but there was also a desire to break away from an endless yearning within me—my love for all things new. Not only new “stuff” but also new opportunities, meeting new people, starting a new book, trying new foods.
I just love new.
So the challenge of that year was contentment with what I already had, and though I expected it to be hard to say no, I remember feeling so much peace and freedom. One moment in particular stands out: early in the year, I was in a store with a friend, waiting while she shopped, and I realized:
For the first time maybe ever, I don’t feel anxious by the need to “find the deals” because I already know what I’m getting: nothing. I don’t need to look around. I don’t need to “buy it before it’s gone.” I already have everything I need.
That year was formative for me. I learned that I can do without in most circumstances—somehow even summoning the willpower to say no to new things when I had the chance to visit (and shop!) in Paris that summer. Don't get me wrong: I wanted that sweatshirt and those earrings … but I didn’t buy them.

Fast forward six years, and here I am at the start of another new year, and I decided back in the summer that 2026 would again be “a year of nothing new.” But this time, for different reasons.
More Than Just Me
I am blessed in this season to have enough financial resources, generally speaking, to afford those new items that I crave … new clothes, new shoes, a new handbag from Sakroots, new earrings from Judith Bright or my favorite Etsy shop (shout out to Peat Fire Jewelry!).
And it’d be easy for me to say to myself, “You can afford it. You deserve it. You don’t buy new things all the time.”
And yet …
In the journey of learning to show care toward God’s beautiful Earth, I have realized how my craving for the new not only drains my resources unnecessarily, but it also contributes to a wider problem: overconsumption, which leads to high volumes of waste and, ultimately, a lack of resources for others.
In other words, my choices affect more people than just me. And it is my hope that the footprint I ultimately leave behind will do less harm and more good.
In his book For the Beauty of the Earth, Steven Bouma-Prediger lists “self-restraint and frugality” as necessary virtues for God’s people to adopt in an effort to preserve and care for the Earth. Some of my favorite quotes from this section include:
“Others’ (basic) needs take precedence over our (greedy) wants.” (p. 138)
“The ecologically temperate (joyfully) say, ‘I have what I need.’” (p. 139)
“The Earth is finite. We have the moral obligation to preserve the resources God has provided and so joyfully to live within our means.” (p. 139)

And later in the book, he shares, “The emphasis on simplicity, with its challenge to uncomplicate our lives by recognizing what is truly worthwhile, is a much-needed antidote to the fearful and anxious acquisitiveness that so characterizes our age” (p. 160).
So that freedom and peace I felt when I gave up shopping in 2018? I guess it makes sense.
And that perpetual anxiety that I wrestle with? I guess I’m not alone.
I’m prayerful that my efforts to simplify my life and live with more self-restraint will continue to shape me for the better—not only for myself and my family, but for all (now and in the future) who are affected by my choices.
I have much to learn. I need so much grace. Lord knows, I have many vices quietly residing deep in my heart that only He can uproot and redeem.
And yet ...
He promises to do just that. So, may His peace and freedom take seed in me, and you, and all of us as we enter this new year, trusting Him to guide our choices, our resolutions, and our paths. 💛






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