"Who Were You In 2025?"

Who Were You in 2025? A Call to Spiritual Reflection and Action

Have you ever stopped to consider that God sings over you? Tucked away in the ancient words of Zephaniah is a remarkable truth: "The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty. He will save. He will rejoice over thee with joy. He will rest in his love. He will joy over thee with singing."

Imagine that for a moment. The Creator of the universe, so filled with joy over His creation, that He breaks into song. Not just the angels, not just the saints—but God Himself singing over us. This profound image of divine love sets the stage for an equally profound question we must ask ourselves as we stand at the threshold of a new year: Who were we in 2025?

The Uncomfortable Mirror of Scripture

The parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 offers us more than a familiar Sunday school story. It presents a mirror—sometimes uncomfortable—that reflects our own spiritual condition. When a lawyer asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus turned the question back on him. The answer was clear: Love God with everything you have, and love your neighbor as yourself.

But then came the revealing follow-up question: "Who is my neighbor?"

Jesus responded with a story about a man traveling the dangerous road from Jerusalem to Jericho—a treacherous 20-mile stretch that dropped 3,000 feet in elevation, full of curves and crevices where thieves waited to ambush travelers. This wasn't theoretical; it was a road His listeners knew well, a place where violence was common.

In the story, a man is beaten, robbed, and left half dead. Then three people pass by.

Three Types of People, Three Types of Christians

The Priest knew the scriptures. He had studied them, memorized them, could recite them perfectly. Yet when he saw the wounded man, he crossed to the other side of the road. Perhaps he rationalized his inaction—if the man was dead and he touched him, he would be ceremonially unclean and unable to worship at the temple. He cherry-picked scripture to justify his lack of compassion.

How many of us have done the same? We know the Bible says God loves us and will forgive us, so we convince ourselves we can live however we want. We consume our lives with our own concerns, our own families, our own comfort. We attend church, check the box, but never truly apply what we learn. We give nothing, help no one, reach out to no one in pain.

The Levite was a step closer. He actually approached the wounded man, looked at him, examined the situation—and then walked away. He had knowledge. He had proximity. But he had no action.

This is the person who works alongside someone for years and never asks if they know Jesus. This is the neighbor who sees someone struggling and never invites them to church. This is the family member who knows their relative is lost but can't muster the courage to have the conversation. We get close enough to see the need, close enough to feel uncomfortable, but not close enough to actually help.

The Samaritan—despised by the Jewish people, considered an outsider—was the one who stopped. He saw the man and had compassion. He bound his wounds, used his own resources (oil and wine), put him on his own animal, took him to an inn, paid for his care, and promised to return and cover any additional costs.

The Challenging Question: Which One Were You?

As we reflect on the past year, this question demands an honest answer. Did you give to causes that helped others? Did you pack backpacks for children who couldn't afford school supplies? Did you contribute to Christmas for families in need? Did you support missionaries spreading the gospel?

Or go deeper: Did you invite even one person to church last year? Just one? Did you ask a single soul if they knew where they would spend eternity?

For children walking into a classroom without a backpack when everyone else has new shoes, new clothes, and new supplies, that lack means something profound. It's easy to dismiss as adults, but put yourself back in those shoes. Some people were the hands and feet of Jesus to those children. Were you?

The Path Forward: A Spiritual Mindset

The beauty of this reflection isn't condemnation—it's opportunity. If God has given you another year, He has a purpose for you. He's singing over you even now, rejoicing in what He can do through a willing heart.

Consider the example of faithful servants who never quit. There are those who preach until their dying breath, who witness at truck stops and drive-throughs, who move into nursing homes not as residents but as ministers. These are people who don't measure their faithfulness by convenience but by calling.

And consider the spiritual mindset that can say of a child who died in infancy, "I wouldn't bring you back from where you are now." That's not callousness—that's faith that sees beyond earthly pain to heavenly glory. It's the perspective that changes everything.

One Bite at a Time

You don't have to fix everything at once. You can eat an elephant one bite at a time. Maybe this year, you just need joy. Ask God to fill your heart with joy every single day. Maybe you need to conquer a particular sin that's held you back. Maybe you need to address disobedience—God has been calling you to something and you've been resisting.

Start there. Work on that one thing until God grows you in that area, then take another step.

The Invitation

The early church in Acts continued in doctrine, broke bread together, fellowshipped, prayed, and taught one another. They were a community. They were the body of Christ in action, not just in theory.

This year can be different. This year can be the year you become the Samaritan in your story—the one who stops, who sees with spiritual eyes instead of fleshly ones, who acts with compassion instead of convenience.

Who were you in 2025? More importantly, who will you be in 2026?

The road is still there. People are still wounded. And God is still singing over you, waiting to work through a willing heart.