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you made it.
To the end of advent, the end of Christmas, and now to the literal last day of 2025. You're here, still standing. And that counts for more than you think.
Whatever you were carrying this year, you made it through. Every unanswered prayer, every night you stayed faithful when you didn't feel Him, every tiny ‘yes’ when quitting felt easier — it all counted. Even the ugly crying. Especially that. It was all seen by the only One whose opinion matters. And He held you the whole time. Not begrudgingly, but close. Like a dad who refuses to let go of his kid’s hand while they’re learning to walk.
The Gospel of John opens with a line you’ve probably skimmed over before: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” - John 1:1 NIV
The "Word" here is the Greek Logos (λόγος), which literally means 'logic' or 'reason.' To the Greeks John wrote to, Logos was the term for the unexplainable force that kept the stars from falling; the rationality behind the universe’s rhythms. And Jewish readers would see the parallel here to Genesis 1:1: this “Word” was the God who spoke the world into being.
John’s big reveal here is that the power behind everything has a heartbeat. The Logic holding the universe together isn't a force; it’s a person.
Jesus wasn't Plan B for when humanity messed up. He was woven into the story before time had a name and before you had a name. The rescue mission was never Plan B. God didn’t scramble when we screwed up. He always, always wanted you back.
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
I love how theologian Eugene Peterson paraphrased this: “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.” Not as a concept or as a vibe or as a quote for your throw pillow, but as a human being. Jesus got hungry, tired, and felt misunderstood. He cried at his best friend’s funeral, He flipped tables when He saw injustice, and He was betrayed by the closest friends He’d ever had.
The Word didn’t stay in heaven. He came down, knowing exactly what it would cost. And that’s why they called Him Emmanuel, God with us. With skin and bones and a mom who worried and an earthly dad who taught him to work with his hands.
That's our God. He doesn't do distant.
He didn’t send a memo from the sky and call it good. He didn’t watch from the sidelines hoping we figure it out. He showed up in the middle of the mess as a baby who needed to be burped, a toddler that learned to walk on the very same dirt He created, and as a man who loved people so deeply it got him killed.
And he’s still showing up. In the 3am anxiety spirals and the Tuesday afternoons. Even now, in the final hours of a year that probably didn’t go the way you planned.
The waiting you did this year — the thing you've been white-knuckling in prayer — was never pointless. Silence isn’t absence for our God; it’s intimacy. The quiet is where He does the deep work in the soil of our hearts while we stare at the surface and ask Him why nothing’s growing yet.
So as you close out 2025 tonight, know this: the same God who showed up in Bethlehem showed up for you this year, even when you couldn't feel Him. Even in the months you'd rather forget.
He's still here. He’s not running out of patience and He’s not reconsidering. We serve an Emmanuel kind of God — one who would rather choose to be with us in our mess than to watch us from a distance in disappointment. He’s the father who saw his prodigal kid on the horizon and ran. No lecture, no “I told you so,” just arms wide open and a party already being planned before we even finish saying sorry.
So exhale, friend. You made it.
You’re not who you were in January and that’s the whole point. Here's to entering the new year a little softer, a little braver, and a whole lot more held than we could ever realize.
-written by someone who needed to hear this more than she needed to write it ❤️
today's practice: nothing. no resolutions yet. no pressure to have a word for the year. just receive and let yourself be loved by a God who thought you were worth leaving Heaven for ♡
honest prayer: God, thank you for coming when I didn’t know I needed You and for staying when I fell short. Thank you for not wasting a second of my waiting. help me to receive what You so freely give without trying to earn it first. I trust You with my 2026. In Your Son’s name I pray, amen.
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