You had a plan for how this year would go, and then something unexpected, uninvited, and uncomfortable landed in your lap. Like a squirrel handed to you at a ballet, it threw off all your reference points and left you asking, “What do I do with this?” It’s okay to say, “This isn’t what I expected,” and it’s okay to feel tired in places deeper than your body. You don’t have to pretend the squirrel isn’t there; you can acknowledge it and still belong. Today, begin by naming the disruption and noticing that God is already present within it. You’re still here, and that matters. [08:42]
Romans 8:28 — We are confident of this: in every single circumstance, God is actively weaving good for those who love Him and are called by Him—not because everything is good, but because God refuses to waste anything.
Reflection: What is the “squirrel” you’re carrying right now, and what would making gentle room for it look like this week rather than trying to get rid of it immediately?
Grace doesn’t erase disruption, but it does create sacred space within it. You don’t have to wait for everything to be fixed before you worship, pray, or belong. Grace says, “Bring the squirrel with you, and sit here with God.” This is why community matters—not because anyone performs perfectly, but because we carry each other’s disruptions together. Trust that the surprise that startled you did not surprise God, and He is at work even here. Let grace widen the margins of your life. [09:27]
2 Corinthians 12:9 — The Lord said, “My grace is enough for you; where you feel weak, My power shows up best,” so we can actually rest in our limits and let Christ’s strength shine through us.
Reflection: What small, practical rhythm (like a short prayer, breath prayer, or five quiet minutes) could help you sit with your disruption in God’s presence each day this week?
Grief is not proof that your faith is failing; it is evidence that your heart has loved. The joy of the Lord doesn’t mean you must whistle through tears or hide your ache. Some losses are visible, and some are quiet—like a relationship that faded, a plan that unraveled, or a hope that didn’t materialize. Grief won’t have the last word in Christ, but it is allowed to have a word today. Give yourself permission to lament, and let God meet you in that honest space. It’s okay to grieve, and you don’t have to grieve alone. [07:58]
Psalm 34:18 — The Lord draws close to those whose hearts are heavy and rescues those who are crushed in spirit.
Reflection: What specific loss do you need to name before God today, and who is one safe person you could invite to witness that grief with you?
When people describe the moments that shaped them most, they rarely talk about the easy days; they talk about the disruptions that redirected their lives. Pain is not good, yet God is present and opening new depths of humility, compassion, and imagination through it. The squirrel you never wanted may become the place where your empathy is born and your faith deepens. Look back and notice where resilience has quietly formed in you this year. Let that awareness turn into gratitude, not for the pain, but for God’s nearness within it. Your story is being refined, not reduced. [10:11]
2 Corinthians 4:8–10 — We get pressed from every side, but we’re not crushed; we get puzzled, but not abandoned; we take hits, yet we’re not finished, because the life of Jesus keeps showing up in our fragile lives.
Reflection: Where have you noticed your compassion widen this year because of a specific disruption, and how might that shape one concrete act of kindness you can offer someone else this week?
Maybe what you most need right now isn’t more answers but permission to breathe and belong. You can say, “This wasn’t what I expected—but I’m still here,” and that is a faithful confession. God isn’t asking you to fix your story; He’s inviting you to trust that He’s already in it. As a new year approaches, the squirrel may still be around—but so is Jesus, and so are the people walking with you. Make room at the table of your life for both grace and disruption. You are not an outsider; you are family. [09:03]
Matthew 11:28–30 — Jesus says, “Come to Me, all of you who are worn out and carrying heavy loads; I will give you rest. Walk with Me, learn My pace, and you will find rest deep in your soul, because My way fits you and I carry the weight with you.”
Reflection: What is one step of shared belonging you can take this week—asking for prayer, joining a group, or simply telling a trusted friend what you’re carrying?
Hope and humor meet honest lament, calling weary hearts to make room for disruption rather than deny it. Using the vivid image of sitting at a formal ballet and being handed a live squirrel, the teaching reframes the “unexpected, uninvited, uncomfortable” moments that shattered plans in 2025. Those moments do not disqualify anyone from belonging; they become places where grace does its deepest work. The emphasis is not that “all things are good,” but that God works for good in all things. That distinction protects sufferers from shallow cheer and invites them to trust a God who is not surprised by their story.
The year-end reflection gives permission to acknowledge exhaustion and grief without shame. Grief is not faithlessness; it is human. It should not have the last word, but it must be given space. Losses—of people, marriages, health, hopes, or relationships—are not ignored. They are named, carried, and brought into God’s presence where grace makes room. This is the strange mercy of grace: it does not remove every disruption, but it enlarges the heart to hold it with God.
The call is practical and pastoral: stop waiting for the squirrel to be gone before worshiping, serving, and belonging. Do not postpone intimacy with God until life feels neat. Sit in the disruption and watch for the God who keeps showing up. Church, then, matters as a family where imperfect people carry imperfect stories together and discover compassion, humility, and a deeper imagination for what God can do. The charge moving into 2026: release the pressure to fix, explain, or justify every twist of the story. Trust that what surprised you has not surprised God, that grace is already at work, and that there is room at the table—even with the squirrel in your lap.
``now grief should never have the last word and we know it won't if we're in Christ we know it won't but right now in this moment maybe what you need to hear the most is it's okay it's okay to grieve and we've all gone through moments that we had never would have chosen to go through but if we look back those are the moments that impacted our lives and changed our lives the most and no we wouldn't say yeah I would want to go through that moment again but yet those moments became doorways not because the pain was good but because something opened up within us
[01:13:06]
(51 seconds)
#ItsOkayToGrieve
experiencing grief and the one thing that I really felt pressed to tell them and let them know is that the grief they're feeling it's okay and I think sometimes we get shamed into thinking that something's wrong with us if we continue to grieve the joy of the Lord people think that means we're supposed to be singing and whistling all the time
[01:10:46]
(46 seconds)
#GriefIsNormal
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