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As this year draws to a close, I have found myself reflecting on a familiar phrase often spoken in anticipation of what lies ahead: “New year, new me.” This year, however, instead of blindly embracing it, I’ve come to a different conclusion. As I look toward 2026, I am not just asking God to do something new in my life. Instead, I am also asking Him to revive and restore what already exists.
2025 was personally challenging for me in ways that I didn’t anticipate. Financially, emotionally, relationally, mentally, and spiritually, I faced pressures that stretched me deeply. In the midst of those trials, the details of which I will refrain from sharing publicly, I began to notice something subtle but significant. With each challenge, small parts of my faith began to slip away.
The quiet strength I once carried gave way to weariness. The fire that had burned brightly for God began to dim. Where prayer had once been my first response, it slowly became something I avoided, particularly in community. Somewhere along the way, I began to view God through the lens of my pain rather than His faithfulness. But this shift did not happen all at once. It was gradual. Often unseen, but still deeply felt. Peace dulled, passion faded, and faith became harder to access.
By the end of the year, I am grateful to say that I received some form of testimony in each of the five areas where I faced challenges, all by the grace of God. Yet even in the midst of answered prayers, I became aware that I had lost a part of the woman who once carried a strong, childlike faith in Christ, a faith I have been trying to reclaim amid waiting and uncertainty.
Brought back, but not yet whole
This longing for restoration in some ways echoes the cry found in Psalm 85, which some Biblical scholars associate with God’s restoration of Israel from captivity. Although the people had been brought back into the land God had promised them, the fullness of restoration had not yet been realised. The land was economically fragile, foreign powers still exercised control, and the spiritual unity of the community remained fractured. They were home again, but they were not yet whole.
That tension feels familiar to me in this reflective season. Throughout the year, circumstances have shifted and prayers have been answered, yet the deeper work of renewal still feels unfinished.
Choosing restoration over reinvention
In the same spirit of the cries echoed in Psalm 85, I have come to see that what I need most in 2026 is not reinvention, but restoration. A return to what matters most: a faith that trusts, and a heart that loves God simply and fully. With this realisation has come the acknowledgement that faith is often sustained through God’s quiet work in us over time, just as much as through dramatic change, and I am learning to make space for Him to do that work in me.
This has shaped my prayer as the year comes to an end. I am asking God to renew me, strengthening my faith, deepening my joy, and steadying my commitment to His kingdom, even when life feels uncertain. And this time, with the added confidence that hindsight brings, I trust that whatever comes my way, my walk with God means that I will still remain standing.
I may not know what you have walked through in 2025, but perhaps this could be one of your prayer points too.