January 24th
Stay present,
stay planted
“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
— Matthew 6:34 (NRSV)
You’ve been spending too much energy rehearsing imaginary futures. The what ifs feel productive, but they’re actually distractions. God is working in the what is. This moment. This season. This version of you. When you’re always bracing for what could go wrong, you miss what God is already doing right now.
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And let’s be real, there’s a temptation to leave when things get uncomfortable or unclear. But don’t rush out of the assignment. If God planted you here, it’s not random. Growth rarely happens where things are easy or fully explained. Sometimes the calling is simply to stay long enough to be shaped.
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But staying doesn’t mean doing everything alone. God isn’t just interested in using you. He wants to sustain you. Let Him help. Let Him carry the parts you were never meant to hold by yourself. Being faithful doesn’t mean being exhausted.
Prayer:
God, help me stay present. Quiet my anxious what ifs and anchor me in what You’re doing now. Give me the wisdom to stay when You’ve called me to stay, and the humility to receive help instead of trying to be strong on my own. Use me, but also care for me. Amen.
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Takeaway:
Be where your feet are. Stay the assignment. Receive the help.
January 17th
seen not silenced
In my early twenties, during my first full-time job, I worked alongside a young woman who, I would say, quietly disrupted everything I thought I knew about faith. She was white, Christian, a lesbian, and deeply devoted to Jesus. She led Bible readings for the elderly residents with a sincerity that made you stop and listen. Her love for Christ was visible. Undeniable.
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At some point, she trusted me enough to tell me she was in a relationship with another woman. I didn’t flinch. Not because I was enlightened or deeply theological. I just simply saw her humanity first. She was good at her job. She cared deeply about people. And she loved Jesus.
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What struck me most wasn’t her sexuality, it was the weight she carried trying to survive in a faith tradition that told her parts of herself were unacceptable. She wrestled openly with God, asking why she would be made this way if it was supposedly “wrong.” And yet, with full autonomy to walk away from faith altogether, she chose to stay. She chose Christ. She chose to live honestly, even when honesty came at a cost.
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​“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NRSV)
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Liberation theology teaches us that God is most present where people are oppressed, silenced, or forced into hiding. That young woman lived at the intersection of faith and rejection, devotion and danger. And God met her there—not with condemnation, but with nearness.​
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This experience was one of the first moments that shaped my call to ministry more than any sermon could. Not because I corrected her. Not because I guided her. But because I listened. I stayed present. I didn’t rush to fix what I didn’t understand.
Ministry isn’t about having answers, it’s about refusing to abandon people in their questions.​ We like to draw neat lines around who belongs and who doesn’t, but Scripture tells a different story. If sin were the disqualifier, none of us would be here. The gospel was never about purity tests, it was about liberation, restoration, and radical belonging.​
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Being called to ministry means you will meet people whose lives don’t fit clean theological boxes. You won’t always know what to say. That’s not a failure. Sometimes justice looks like proximity. Sometimes love looks like silence. Sometimes the most Christlike thing you can do is stay.
God is near to the crushed in spirit. Our job is to be near too.
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Prayer
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God of the oppressed and the honest,
Teach us to listen before we label.
To love before we judge.
To walk alongside those the world pushes to the margins.
Make us ministers of presence, not fear.
Amen.
January 7th
Begin again
About ten years ago, I wrote a blog post titled Where Do I Go From Here? It came at the end of a relationship that changed the trajectory of my life. This wasn’t just a breakup, it was an engagement. There was a ring, a plan, and a future I had already organized my heart around.
When it ended, I felt stuck. I didn’t know what was next. I didn’t have clarity, confidence, or a new plan waiting in the wings. What I did have was the quiet, uncomfortable reality that the life I imagined was over. And somehow, without knowing how, I began again anyway.
That’s the part we don’t talk about enough. Starting over rarely comes with certainty. It usually begins with confusion, grief, and a lot of unanswered questions.
Maybe your 2025 was heavy—full of loss, disappointment, or unmet expectations. Or maybe it was actually good, even joyful, and now you’re bracing yourself because you know life doesn’t stay easy forever. Either way, 2026 will bring its own challenges. That’s not pessimism, it’s reality.
But here’s the truth that grounds us: new beginnings are not dependent on perfect circumstances. They are sustained by God’s faithfulness.
Scripture reminds us that we are not consumed. Not by heartbreak, not by fear, not by what didn’t work out, because God’s compassion does not run dry.
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
— Lamentations 3:22–23
Every morning is evidence that God is still at work. New mercy doesn’t erase yesterday, but it does give us strength to move forward. Beginning again doesn’t mean forgetting the past. It means trusting God enough to take the next step anyway.
So whether you are healing, hopeful, uncertain, or cautiously optimistic, this is your invitation: begin again. Not because you have it all figured out, but because God is faithful enough to meet you in the unknown.
Reflect:
What is one area of your life where God may be inviting you to begin again—not with answers, but with trust?
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Prayer:
God, give me the courage to begin again. Help me release what no longer serves me and trust You with what comes next. Thank You for mercies that meet me every morning. Amen.