Brody Jespersen

Farewell to a year that felt like a wilderness—where shadows stretched long and silence hung heavy, veiling the horizon. The rain hid the stars, the mist obscured the hills, and the blue of the sky lay hidden behind clouds. It was a season of stumbling, of aching questions, of walking in darkness that seemed to press closer with each step.

And yet, even here, a hand reached out. If we may hold it—just hold it—it is enough. For though the dark happenings of our lot may hide the shining of His face, He does not fall. His steps do not falter, even when ours fail. The wilderness, though barren and unrelenting, is not the end of the story. Streams will flow through the wasteland, and unseen paths will rise beneath our feet.

‘See, I am doing a new thing; now it springs up, do you not perceive it?’ (Isaiah 43:19).

To those still wandering in the dark: hold fast. The God who steadies the stars and breathes life into the dry earth walks with you, even when the way is hidden. The breaking will not destroy you. The silence will not define you. Renewal is already stirring, unseen yet unyielding, waiting to rise.

To the year that has passed: we release you—the weight, the sorrow, the refining—with the hope that no tear was wasted.

To the year ahead: we step toward you with trembling hearts, believing that the God who walks beside us is still at work, bringing rivers to deserts and light to the shadows.

Here’s to the beauty of a hand held in the dark, to hope rising unseen, and to the quiet miracle of a God who never stumbles.

📷 by Scott Erickson