New Year, Visible Faith

There is something sacred about the beginning of a new year. It invites reflection in a way few other moments do. As 2025 came to a close, I found myself looking back with deep gratitude—not because it was easy, but because it was formative. This past year stretched me, humbled me, and shaped me in ways I didn’t fully expect. It marked a season of transition, of learning how to lead better, love deeper, and trust God more fully in the everyday moments that don’t make headlines but quietly form who we are becoming.

2025 was the year we stepped into Pathway—not just as a church to attend, but as a place to belong and serve. It was a year of learning a new rhythm of ministry, discovering what it means to lead with humility instead of assumption, and realizing that leadership is far less about having the right answers and far more about listening well. Along the way, so many became family. God wove relationships together in a way only He can, reminding me that ministry is never about buildings or programs, but about people.

As this new year begins, I keep returning to a question that feels both personal and deeply spiritual: if someone were to quietly observe my life—my leadership, my marriage, my parenting, my faith—what would they learn about God? Not from what I preach or post, but from how I live. Jesus said we are to let our light shine before others so that they see our lives and give glory to our Father in heaven (Matthew 5:16). The goal has never been to draw attention to ourselves; it has always been to live in such a way that God’s goodness becomes undeniable.

That thought has been echoing in my heart through the lyrics of Light A Fire. One line continues to linger: “I want to burn for You.” Burning implies surrender. It suggests a faith that costs something. Fire refines, consumes, and spreads. Over the past year, I’ve learned that walking closely with God often means letting go of comfort, pride, and control. Paul urges believers to be fervent in spirit as they serve the Lord (Romans 12:11), and I’ve learned that kind of spiritual fire is rarely loud—but it is always real.

2025 also deepened my gratitude for my family. Watching our girls grow—seeing their personalities form, their joy increase, their curiosity about the world expand—has been one of the greatest gifts of my life. They remind me daily that faith is not something we only speak about, but something we model. My prayer is not just that they hear about God’s goodness someday, but that they see it lived out in the way their parents love, forgive, and trust Him.

This year also strengthened my marriage in ways I didn’t anticipate. Early in the year, my ministry coach said something that stuck with me: make every year of your marriage the best year yet. As 2025 closed, I realized that I am more in love with Tanja now than ever before. Not because life slowed down—it didn’t—but because God taught us to choose each other intentionally in the midst of responsibility, exhaustion, and calling. That kind of love doesn’t happen by accident; it’s formed when Christ is centered daily.

Scripture reminds us that our lives are living letters, known and read by everyone (2 Corinthians 3:2). Whether we intend it or not, people are reading us. They’re watching how we handle pressure, how we speak when frustrated, how we respond to conflict, and how we trust God when outcomes are uncertain. Peter wrote that when believers live good lives among others, even skeptics may ultimately glorify God because of what they observe (1 Peter 2:12). God’s goodness becomes believable when it is embodied.

Another lyric from Light A Fire says, “I want to live a life that’s worthy.” That’s not about perfection—it’s about surrender. Paul urges us to present our lives as living sacrifices, calling this true worship (Romans 12:1). True worship is not confined to songs we sing on Sundays; it’s expressed through daily faithfulness—choosing integrity, extending grace, serving quietly, and remaining faithful when no one is watching.

One of the most powerful prayers in the song is also one of the simplest: “Let it start with me.” Real renewal always begins there. Revival doesn’t start with crowds or platforms; it starts with humility. God promises that when His people humble themselves and seek Him, He responds (2 Chronicles 7:14). The world doesn’t need louder Christians—it needs truer ones. Lives marked by love, consistency, and obedience speak louder than any sermon.

As we step into a new year, plans will shift and goals will change, but the calling remains the same. Whatever we do, we are to do it for the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31). Imagine if success this year were measured not by achievement, but by faithfulness. What if our homes became places of peace, our leadership reflected humility, our words carried grace, and our lives quietly pointed others to Jesus?

The light of Christ still shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:5). My prayer for this year is simple: that God would light a fire in us that burns deeper than emotion, that our lives would become living testimonies of His goodness, and that those who watch our lives would see not us—but Him.