As we step into the new year, I sense a great expectation rising among believers. The Lord is stirring something fresh, and anticipation is gaining momentum. Many who walk intimately with the Lord are believing for fresh encounters, and there is a hunger for more of the things of God. I see the body of Christ pressing in through prayer and fasting for something new, something fresh. They crave the fresh manna. They are tired of the old school doctrine, and they are now seeking revelation and the mysteries of God.
Several years ago, I was asked to give a convocation address at a major theological seminary in America. In that address, I spoke about the critical role of logic in biblical interpretation, and I pleaded for seminaries to include courses on logic in their required curricula. In almost any seminary's course of study, students are required to learn something of the original biblical languages, Hebrew and Greek. They are taught to look at the historical background of the text, and they learn basic principles of interpretation. These are all important and valuable skills for being good stewards of the Word of God.
The performance trap is subtle and exhausting. The suffocating pressure that whispers that everything depends on you—your ability to get it right, pray the perfect prayer, or somehow unlock the "missing step" to breakthrough. When pressure builds, the mind spirals: What am I missing? What am I doing wrong? Why can't I get the breakthrough? Culture reinforces the same lie. Achievement, hustle, output, and perfection become the measures of worth. Even friends trying to help unknowingly add pressure by asking, "Have you tried this?" The problem is not the advice—it's the underlying assumption that your effort determines the outcome.
When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror and wanted to change what you saw? In the past month, about what have you said, "I want that?" When your friend received the promotion, product, or prestige that you thought you would receive, what was your reaction? Most people find it very difficult to be content. Contentment is difficult because we are fallen people living in a fallen world. No longer do we worship God alone and work for His glory. Until Jesus returns, we will battle the desire to want Christ plus someone or something else.
Every January, we make the same sacred promise to ourselves. We map out the person we'll become, the habits we'll build, and the version of ourselves we'll finally achieve. We write our resolutions with such hope, such certainty. Yet, by mid-February, most of us find ourselves back where we started. Consider that this is not because we lack willpower, but because we were building, once again, on an unstable and illusional foundation. This is why this year, I want to invite you into something different. Not another list of things to do or become but instead a single, clarifying question: Who am I beneath all the doing?
There are moments in God when time itself seems to shift, when seasons close and new beginnings quietly but unmistakably emerge. Scripture reveals that God is not bound by time, yet He works through time to accomplish eternal purposes. And how we steward time may be one of the greatest indicators of our spiritual health. From the opening pages of Genesis, God establishes divine order. He creates the heavens and the earth in six days, and on the seventh day, He rests, not because He was weary, but because creation was complete. The seventh day marked rest, reflection, and satisfaction in what had been accomplished.
Have you ever felt unsure about which decision to make? Or perhaps you feel fearful that the decisions you have made weren't the best. You play out the options in your mind, but you feel paralyzed—stuck and unable to move forward. Maybe you've lain in bed at night, concerned about the future. You've played over scenarios in your mind, trying to come up with the perfect solution. Uncertainty is all around us. Although we live in an information-overloaded culture, we're not benefiting. It seems that though there's more advice than ever, we're more uncertain than ever. Instead, we're growing in weariness and overwhelm.
Part and parcel to any relationship is communication—sending and receiving, talking and listening. Our relationships with God are no different. It's of no debate that God wants to hear our voices. But Jesus revealed that God also wants us to hear His. "My sheep hear My voice," He assured (John 10:27). Unless you live on a farm, most today are far removed from what it actually means for sheep to know their master's voice. In a recent online Bible study, I played a short video clip that profoundly illustrates what happens.
Does God have a plan for your life? If so, what is it? Most people think of specifics: He plans for me to be a teacher. His plan is for me to go to school and become a doctor. He plans for me to marry and have 2 children. Some of your gifts and callings are decided in advance before you are born. Those gifts and callings lead you to fulfill God's intention for your life (PURPOSE of GOD). The end result of God's purpose or intention is to bless you and for you to bless others.
Time feels different these days, doesn't it? Days move fast. Weeks disappear. And before we know it, another month has gone by. We live in a culture that applauds busyness—but then we wonder why prayer feels so difficult. I don't think prayer is hard because God is distant. I think prayer is hard because we are rushing. One of the greatest challenges in prayer is not faith—it's slowing down. Somehow, we've attached prayer to words like perseverance and discipline. And while those words matter, they can make prayer feel exhausting before we ever begin. We approach prayer like another item on our to-do list instead of the invitation it truly is.
