2025: The Year That Was
An Ode to the year that completely changed me.
I walked into this year filled with pain and shame. The shame felt like a wet blanket, a constant weight upon me. My sense of belonging was shaken to the core. I tried to earn my way into love, striving to do it all, instead of realizing that some things can only be received through simply being. Yet, the ongoing revelation of Christ kept peeling away the layers of my striving and healing the toiling of woundedness at work within me.
This was the year I met grace: the sufficient grace of God. I learned that only when we have nothing – nothing to do and nothing to offer, do we truly understand its significance.
2025 was a sobering unravelling. It was the year I came to every end: the end of myself, my strength, my knowledge, and my perceived wisdom. I came to the end of planning my life. No Plan A, Plan B, or any other plan remained. I lost so much that I could not even tally the score. Every muscle, every sinew was stripped to the bare minimum. I was made lean, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually, as I purged and as the Lord purged that which was not of Him in me.
This was the year of Deliverance, which changed the shape and form of my love. I learned that it is just as important to be loved as it is to love.
So…I stopped pouring myself into vessels that degraded and devalued me. I came face to face with a low self-esteem that had projected illusions of love where none had existed. Every single mistake looked me glaringly in the eyes, asking me to show myself grace even as I asked for God’s mercy.
This year caused me to cry out in ways I have not yet learned to fully encapsulate in words, for tears were my only language and, on most nights, my only food.
I died many times, and every time the blood of Jesus brought me back to life. I gave up many times, and the Holy Spirit was the only reason I could get back up.
I learned to love anew, in beauty and in pain. I learned to love me. I learned to see myself, the ebbs and flows, the highs and lows, the curves and bends, and to recognize that I am lovable, valuable, and worthy.
I came face to face with the deep betrayal that came with the persistent longing for belonging in places that were never mine. And in the process; I met her, the gentle, aging face that palpably cried out to me each day in the mirror. Her aging taunted me, it felt premature. I hadn’t done all that I wanted, how could I look so much older? The deepening wrinkles of my laugh lines caused me great distress, until I realised that they were meant to remind me that even in the midst of despair, I would laugh boldly. The laughter was a privilege that affirmed that I, even on the hard days, am the epitome of joyfulness, always dripping with the joy of the Lord.
In my growing solitude I learned that no man on earth could love me more than God loves me. I learned that His grace and love cover the multitude of my sins. Every day I would gain a deeper understanding of the pain of my sin, and in that a deeper revelation of the pain of the Cross. Imagine being loved by a God who is love, not just in Word but also in deed. A God who perfects us in our infirmity and delivers us from it as we walk out our salvation.
As I grew in AWE of Him, I grew in curiosity of who He designed me to be. Why me? Why would He entrust me with this moment in time? Who was I to Him? Without the echo chamber of all of my “responsibilities”, who was I to Him? Who was I in Him?
Remember Tsholo, you must crawl before you can run.
In 2025, there were days when I was content being a butterfly, fragile and beautiful and fleeting. But I resented the shallow spaces that I occupied in that state. I was never called to be a butterfly, I was born to be an eagle, to soar on the wind, not to be crushed by it. But eagles aren’t fragile, eagles are brave. And my brave had been beaten out of me over the years; I wasn’t even fragile like the butterfly, I had become frail, scared and silent like an old rooster ready for slaughter. Oh, BUT GOD! The spirit of cowardice that allowed me to live like a chicken was violently severed from me in 2025.
I stood higher a little more every day. I spoke, and my voice travelled between cities and towns, places and countries, to reach people. I stood in the council of leaders, and I was enough.
I exchanged every “I don’t know” rooted in fear for the peaceful reassurance of what I knew to be true because God spoke to me. I left the shaky ground of insecurity for the foundational rock that is Christ. I stopped looking for myself in the eyes of strangers and began to see my character intricately woven into the beautiful tapestry of God’s Word. I allowed the gentle nudging of the Holy Spirit to move me forward, one step, one moment at a time.
I learned to measure time not in minutes and hours, but in breaths of purpose and intention.
This year, I held on to my son with everything in me. It felt like he was slipping through my fingers, and I needed him back on safe ground. My teenager was becoming as I was becoming and all that uncertainty was scary. But God in His kindness, opened my eyes to who he was becoming, and taught me how to honour the journey instead of fearing it. This year I was allowed to watch from the front row, as God healed my boys heart. And as my Heavenly Father cradled me, I could cradle my son in love. Love was the thread that kept us from breaking. The truth was enough.
Ties were severed with those who continuously chose to be on the wrong side of love. All that was not meant for me, God allowed to sail into the horizon of a life I no longer lead. I was delivered from every curse, stronghold, and all bondage. I stood victorious over all that had held me down.
This year, I saw God. I met Love, and it took a shape I never expected. My fragility became my strength. I spoke from the heart, the child in me found healing, and my mind opened itself up to new experiences of becoming.
For the first time, in a long time, I could measure the impact of being me, successfully, and I thank God for that. I grew to randomly burst out in song, cheerfully offering a new song of praise. Mornings were now defined by waking to the sound of my soul singing unto the Lord, for gratitude was my portion.
I forgave me.
I walked on water and then onto the uncharted territories of my own soul. The doors to the secret chambers where I meet God were opened again.
I learned how to sow again, how to trust again, how to hope again, how to dream again. I learned how to be me again.
This year was harrowingly painful, but it was that very pain which etched the marks of Christ onto me, marking me as His child forever. I stopped being merely a follower and a disciple. Each day, I grew a little more into the embodiment of what He has always called me to be: a son in His Kingdom.
I prayed big prayers and grew in faith, love, patience, and, most importantly, kindness.
Even though I saw the dark side of fear, I learned that the light of God’s presence, when I allowed it, would pierce through every doubt, every form of anxiety, and every fear planted by the enemy.
This year, I not only perceived of victory. I tasted it. I tasted the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, and there is nothing like it.
This year, I met the Lord.
This year, I met the Lord, and I loved it.