A Prayer for 2025
Psalm 98:1
“Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things; his right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him.”
It's the first week of January, and you're holding a journal that feels like a metaphor for your walk with God this year. Blank pages spread out before you—untouched, full of potential, waiting for something more than just your plans.
This isn't about New Year's resolutions or another attempt to manufacture the perfect spiritual life. It's about making space for God to move in ways you might not expect - not plans you'll force, but plans He's carefully crafting. Some chapters might feel like wilderness wanderings—full of questions, waiting, unexpected turns. And that's exactly where transformation happens.
Who do you want to become in Christ this year? Not the Instagram-perfect believer, but the real one. The one who shows up messy, who admits when faith feels hard, who continues to trust even when the path isn't clear. This isn't a solo spiritual journey. The best stories always have space for God's unexpected grace. They're not performances of righteousness, but honest encounters where your humanity collides with His love.
Think about how your small, ordinary moments might intersect with God's larger narrative. Where could your work, your relationships, your daily choices become pathways of Kingdom purpose? Sometimes faithfulness looks like showing up consistently, loving quietly, trusting deeply.
Some days, following Jesus will feel like walking in complete darkness. You won't see the whole map, and that's precisely where faith takes root. Following Christ isn't about having everything figured out—it's about being willing to take the next step, even when it doesn't make sense. Your life is a living epistle, a letter from Christ to the world. People will read your story not through perfect theology, but through how love, grace, and hope moved through your everyday moments.
Don't let fear paralyze your faith. Worry, comparison, old spiritual scripts—these are just ink stains that God's grace can transform. Your story matters. Not because you'll be flawless, but because you're willing to be shaped by a love bigger than yourself.
Psalm 139 reminds us that God was writing our story before we were even born. Every page, every moment—He's already there. 2025 isn't about what you can manufacture, but about what you're willing to surrender. The pages are blank. Christ is inviting you into a story far more beautiful than you could write on your own. What will you allow Him to write?
Close your retreat by writing out a prayer to God for 2025. Ask that you would sense His presence, rely on His promises, and recognize His provision. Declare your trust and dependency. Ask for courage and a willingness to step out in faith.