January has a way of slowing me down. It asks me to look back not to measure success, but to notice grace.
When I think of 2025, I am still trying to find the right words for it. The year carried me across borders, across oceans, across rooms full of people I had never met before, and yet, what stands out most is not the travel itself, but the unmistakable, quiet faithfulness of God that accompanied every step.
I did not set out last year with an ambitious travel plan. I wasn’t chasing invitations or building a map of where I wanted to go. And yet, invitations came. Conferences I never expected to attend opened their doors. Spaces I had only admired from afar welcomed me in. Again and again, I found myself standing in places I hadn’t imagined I would be standing, aware that these were not doors I had pushed open myself.
What humbled me most was not the going, but the way provision arrived.
There were times when everything was already arranged, tickets paid for, accommodation sorted, details falling into place with surprising ease. And there were other times when things were uncertain. Times when I didn’t have enough. Times when I had to pause and ask myself a hard question: Will I trust God enough to ask for help?
That question undid me.
Because for years, I have been someone who gives when asked. When people reach out for financial help, support, or covering, I respond. I believe in generosity. I believe in being open-handed. But 2025 gently showed me that generosity must also be matched with humility, the humility to receive.
I realised something unexpected: I was comfortable being the giver, but deeply uncomfortable being the one in need. Asking for help felt vulnerable. It felt exposing. It required me to lay down pride I didn’t even know I was carrying.
And yet, in learning to ask, I encountered God in a new way. I learned that receiving is not weakness. It is participation in the body of Christ. It allows others the same joy of obedience that I have experienced when I give.
Often, that provision came through people, through generosity that still leaves me speechless. Through yeses that came at just the right moment. Through reminders that I was not walking alone.
Every country I visited introduced me to people who expanded my understanding of faith: different cultures, different stories, different expressions of worship, but the same God at work. I was reminded that His kingdom is vast, layered, and beautifully diverse.
There were moments when I stood still and thought, How did I get here? And the answer was always the same: I didn’t get here alone.
Looking back, I see that 2025 was not a year of striving; it was a year of surrender. A year of obedience that often came before clarity. A year of learning that God’s provision does not always arrive early, but it is never late.
I carry deep gratitude into this new year. Gratitude for open doors. Gratitude for safe journeys. Gratitude for the people who became friends, and the friends who became family. Gratitude for lessons I didn’t ask for, but desperately needed.
Most of all, I am grateful for a God who goes ahead, who provides along the way, and who gently, patiently teaches us how to trust Him more fully.
As I step into 2026, I don’t do so with a checklist of destinations or goals. I step forward with open hands. Ready to go where He sends me. Ready to give when asked. And now, ready to ask when I need to.
For all of it, for every mile, every lesson, every act of provision, I remain in awe. And deeply, deeply thankful.
Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash
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