View from a Pew: Looks Like We Made It… So Now What?

Happy New Year looks like we made it. We prayed, we hoped, we held on—sometimes by nothing more than a thread—and now here we are, standing in a brand-new year. Some of us crossed over shouting. Some of us crossed over limping. Some of us crossed over quiet, carrying grief we couldn’t explain out loud. But however, you arrived, hear this plainly: you arrived on purpose and I believe for a purpose.

We asked God to let us see another year—and He did. Not everyone got that grace. Not everyone got that mercy. So if you’re breathing this morning, if your feet hit the floor, if your eyes opened and your heart still beats, then heaven has already answered one prayer. And that answer is yes.

Now here’s the part we don’t always want to wrestle with:
Seeing another year is not a reward—it’s an assignment.

The Lord didn’t just preserve you to reminisce about what you survived. He preserved you because there is still work attached to your name. There is still love you’re supposed to give, still truth you’re supposed to speak, still forgiveness you’re supposed to release, still courage you’re supposed to walk in. Survival alone isn’t the testimony—obedience is.

I believe this with everything in me:
Everyone has a reservation that cannot be canceled. Time may change, seasons may shift, people may fall away—but God does not overbook purpose. If you’re here, your seat is still reserved. If you’re here, your chapter isn’t finished. If you’re here, heaven is not done writing with your life.

And I noticed something—anytime God allows us to be seen and not just viewed, He’s signaling that there’s more for us to do. Being viewed means people watch you from a distance. Being seen means God positions you where your life speaks without you opening your mouth. Being seen means your scars preach louder than your sermons. Being seen means your endurance is somebody else’s evidence that quitting isn’t the answer.

So now what?

Now we stop wasting the grace that kept us.
Now we stop postponing the obedience we keep calling “timing.”
Now we stop shrinking our calling to fit other people’s comfort.

This year is not about doing more—it’s about doing what matters. It’s about alignment. About clarity. About walking lighter because you finally laid down what God never told you to carry. It’s about choosing peace over performance, purpose over popularity, obedience over applause.

If God woke you up, He still trusts you.
If God brought you through, He still believes in you.
If God kept you here, He’s not done with you.

So don’t rush past this moment. Pause long enough to say, “Thank You, Lord, for letting me see another year.” And then ask the better question—not why am I still here? but who am I still here for?

Looks like we made it.
And if we made it, that means there’s still more to do.