We are over a month into 2025, and I know there are many feelings about resolutions, goals, intentions, or words for the year. You can hate them, love them, or whatever. I don't want to focus so much on that but the type of people we are—what kind of followers of Jesus are we?

Ephesians 2:4 “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us…”

Stillness is so hard to come by. I’m the most distracted I’ve ever been, but it felt insurmountable this past season. I knew the enemy was coming for my stillness because I was made aware of how bad it was and was trying to slow down. That’s just how it goes.

Our culture doesn’t help with stillness, either. Our world only rewards us for movement—for progress, hours worked, quotas hit, money made, classes taken, and tasks completed. We even compare minutes spent listening to Spotify at the end of every year. We’re literally competing for who has the noisiest life.

Stillness and silence go hand in hand. It’s like we need our brains to always be in motion, too, so we fill it with noise. But there is good noise—or at least helpful, beneficial noise like worship music, podcasts, audiobooks/audio bible, whatever else you use to grow your spiritual life. All of that is good and helpful, but what if we never turn it off? What if there’s never a moment of true quiet? It feels almost impossible to imagine…

I can remember my first experience with anxiety as an adult. At the time, I was leading a small group of several post-grad girls from out of town. One of the girls mentioned that she struggled with anxiety—the way she described it was more serious than I was familiar with. I remember thinking to myself (and I even told her later), that I have never truly experienced anxiety—not like that. Until I did.

At the end of each year, I use Jennie Allen’s Dream Guide to reflect on what’s passed and dream toward what’s ahead.

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They “why” behind what I do.

Have you ever prayed a Hail Mary prayer? You’ve prayed over and over for God to do something, but nothing’s changed. You’re down to your last shot (at least that’s how it feels). You’re ready to throw out the fleece, fight Goliath, part the sea, feed the multitudes, stop the storm, walk on water—whatever miracle you feel like you need.

I’ve always told my friends in an excited, anticipatory-type-way when they turned 33 they were entering their Jesus year. Most laugh it off or awkwardly avoid the comment. I throw on the end of the conversation, “But remember, He died that year.” Because although Jesus’ ministry accelerated in his 33rd year, it was also the year He fulfilled His calling in the most painful way—on a cross. Makes for a really happy birthday, doesn’t it?