January had other plans.

Ice on the sidewalks. Forecasts that changed by the hour. School closings that required a flowchart. A start to the year that felt less like a confident stride and more like that careful, arms-out, heel-to-toe walk we all recognize from icy parking lots. Nobody sets out in January with the goal of “did not fall in the parking lot,” and yet here we were.

If the year felt slow to start, it wasn’t for lack of resolve. It’s hard to build momentum when the ground refuses to cooperate, when winter keeps revising its plans and we revise ours accordingly. Sometimes faithfulness looks less like acceleration and more like staying upright.

Traction Requires Direction

When traction is lost, our instinct is predictable: try harder. Pick up the pace. That can look like Wile E. Coyote on rocket skates, spinning furiously on ice, convinced that more speed will solve the problem, only to end up flat on his back. The secret isn’t in putting the pedal down to make up for lost time. Traction requires consistent force in the right direction, and alignment starts with paying attention.

The Bible rarely urges frantic motion. More often, it invites careful attention to what God is already doing. When Isaiah hears the voice of the Lord asking, “Whom shall I send?” nothing is actually happening yet. The moment is one of listening and availability. Isaiah’s response, “Here am I; send me,” is the ultimate expression of alignment (Isaiah 6:8).

That pattern repeats throughout Scripture. Israel learns to walk at God’s pace, guided by cloud and fire, discovering that God’s timeline operates differently than human anxiousness would prefer. Jesus withdraws and prays before beginning his ministry, refusing to be hurried even when the needs pressing around him are urgent. God seems far more interested in direction than velocity.

Faithfulness That Did Not Disappear

In the midst of this disrupted start, I’ve watched our staff team hold things together with a clarity that comes from somewhere deeper than good planning. Plans shifted without warning. Schedules changed repeatedly. Weather complicated nearly everything we tried to coordinate. And still, communication stayed clear, decisions were handled without drama, and care for one another never wavered. That composure grows out of trust, shared purpose, and a commitment to show up for one another regardless of circumstances. I am deeply grateful for it.

I’m also grateful for the faithfulness of this congregation. Worship continued. Care continued. Ministry continued. The church did not disappear just because the calendar became unreliable. When we couldn’t always be in the same room, you found ways to stay connected. Communication itself became ministry.

I’m thankful for volunteers who stayed flexible when plans changed. For musicians and tech teams who adapted to last-minute adjustments. For families who extended patience when things felt uncertain. For people who checked on one another, shared information, offered rides, and chose care over convenience. None of that makes headlines. But it makes a church.

Lent Is a Gift

As we move into February, Lent is approaching. Ash Wednesday falls on February 18. Lent is about walking together with honesty, restraint, and hope. In a year that started on ice, Lent arrives as an invitation to keep learning how to walk. Slowly. Attentively. Together.

At its heart, repentance is reorientation, the freedom of turning again toward the God who meets us on the road. There is a humility in this season that is almost cheerful. T.S. Eliot captures it beautifully in Ash Wednesday: “I rejoice that things are as they are.”

I also know that for some of you, slowing down isn’t a choice. Single parents juggling work and childcare. Hourly workers whose schedules never stabilized. Caregivers stretched thin. If this reflection feels like it comes from a place of privilege, you’re not wrong. The gift of Lent is that it invites all of us, those who need to slow down and those who have no other speed, into the same honest posture before God.

Finding Our Footing

Psalm 147 reminds us that God “does not delight in the strength of the horse, nor take pleasure in the speed of a runner; but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love” (Psalm 147:10–11). Trust and attentiveness are not weaknesses. They are how faith stays upright.

So as February unfolds, here is the invitation. Don’t rush to make the year behave. Don’t assume you are behind. Pay attention. Notice where God is already at work around you. Take the next right step, even if it feels small or inadequate.

We will find our 2026 footing together. Right now, we are learning to walk at a pace that honors our limits and aligns with our calling. And God, as always, is already ahead of us.