The more I ponder John 1:14, the more I am left in awe. Words begin to fail me at what God has done for humankind.
The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.
Why would a God who existed before beginning began, who created time and eternity, the cosmos and galaxies, choose to clothe Himself in human flesh and live among us?
The mystery is almost unbearable in its beauty. The infinite stepping into the finite. The Creator entering creation. Not from a distance, but close enough to be seen, touched, known.
The word dwelt in the original Greek is σκηνόω (skēnoō). It literally means to pitch a tent, to tabernacle, to take up residence. This is not the language of a passing visit. It is the language of presence.
He entered our dust and our days, our meals and conversations, our friendships and fatigue.
A God who makes His home among us, inviting us through Christ into communion with Him.
This is the greatest event in history. The moment when eternity stepped into time. When God did not merely speak to humanity, but came to dwell with us.
And this is why every human heart should take heed. Every ear should lean in and listen.
For this is not simply a story of the past, but a declaration of what God has done, for us. A God who draws near. A God who enters our world so we might draw into Him, our source of true life.
The Word became flesh. And nothing has been the same since.
December 2024, a curiosity began to stir in me. I wondered what a year of yes might look like. A year of saying yes to God, to whatever He placed before me, both within church ministry and beyond its walls.
So, that was how I stepped into 2025. With curiosity more than certainty. I was eager to see what I would learn about God.
Needless to say, it became a very full year. A year of showing up. Of diving deeper into community life. Of saying yes when it would have been easier, and more comfortable, to say no.
Now, as I look back on 2025, here’s what I learned. I’ve learned that every yes led me to people, meeting new people and connecting deeper with others. And each connection, enriched my journey of faith.
Through these people, I was encouraged. Inspired. Spurred on to go deeper with God and to love His people.
Was I surprised by what I learned? Yes. Should I have been surprised? Not really.
Here’s why.
God is interested in people. He has always been interested in people. From the very beginning, Scripture reveals a God who walks with humanity, speaks with them, and dwells among them. “It is not good for man to be alone,” God said (Genesis 2:18), not because Adam lacked productivity, but because he lacked relationship.
God Himself exists in community. The Trinity – God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, living in perfect communion with one another. Relationship is not something God created for us; it is something that already exists within Him. And He invites us into the community of the Trinity, to partake in the joy and love of His fellowship.
So, it should not surprise me that a year of saying yes to God would draw me deeper into relationships. That growth would happen not in isolation, but in community.
From Genesis to the Gospels, Scripture tells the same story: a God who walks with His people, dwells among them, and invites them into life together. A God who calls, gathers, sends and also meets us again through one another.
Jesus did not minister alone. He called disciples to walk with Him. He ate with people, touched the outcast, met people in homes. And when the early church was formed, “they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship” Acts 2:42). Faith, from the beginning, was meant to be lived together.
Perhaps the greatest lesson of my yes year was this: when we say yes to God, we are often saying yes to people. And as we grow deeper in our relationship with God, we find ourselves loving people more deeply.
“I’ll relax after I finish cleaning” vs. “Let me relax first before I start cleaning.”
There’s a trend going around comparing spouses personalities. A simple meme started a discussion among my friends, and one thing we all agreed on — most of us became Marthas after becoming moms.
From planning to prepping to executing #momlife and household duties, the to-do list never ends. Even with automations and reminders, it still feels like we’re always playing catch-up. But deep down, we know we’re called to prioritize what truly matters first and foremost—the Lord.
That’s why I was delighted when I came across this article by Our Daily Bread, Biblical Wisdom for Parents addressing this tension between being a “Martha” and a “Mary.”
“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
(Luke 10:41–42)
Big idea from the article is that Mary and Martha weren’t in opposition but in tension. Jesus wasn’t rebuking Martha’s service, but her stress. The lesson is not to stop serving, but to serve from a place of abiding, not anxiety.
The conclusion? We’re invited to be both.
So, to all the Martha moms out here (myself included), here are some key takeaways and life applications:
1. Our “many things” must be rooted in “the one thing”
Motherhood constantly demands our attention; from school communications and toddler tantrums to the dishes in the sink, the growing pile of laundry, and late-night feedings. The to-do list never ends.
But when we chase after everything without pausing for “the one thing”, sitting at Jesus’ feet, we eventually burn out.
Jesus gently reminded Martha, “You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed or indeed only one.” (Luke 10:41–42)
In our Martha-like moments, let’s not forget the Mary invitation: To be still. To listen. To rest in Him.
How to apply:
Start your day with just 1 verse and 1 prayer. Example: Psalm 46:10 “Be still, and know that I am God”.
Reminder: Don’t chase perfection. Chase presence.
2. Martha was distracted, not wrong
Martha’s service was good but she let it distract her from what mattered most. In today’s terms, Martha could be the “default parent,” or the one who couldn’t relax until everything was done. Sound familiar? We’re not doing anything wrong but when distraction replaces devotion, our soul gets noisy.
How to apply:
Create mini Mary moments in your day (e.g., when washing dishes, say thank-you prayers; during school drop-off).
Set an alarm on your phone midday or anytime, just to stop and breathe in God’s presence.
Turn chores into worship: play worship music while you clean or meal prep.
3. Jesus wasn’t condemning. He was inviting
The tone in Luke 10 isn’t condemnation; it’s a loving redirection: “Martha, Martha…” He sees you, He understands. God isn’t asking moms to choose between spiritual or practical. He’s inviting us to do both, but with peace. It’s about His presence in our day.
How to apply:
Reflect weekly: What’s one area where I’m striving in stress instead of serving in peace?
Say “yes” to help. Let others carry part of the load so you can rest and reset.
Reminder: Replace guilt with grace. Missing devotion time doesn’t “cancel” our day. It reminds us to return.
Points to ponder:
1) How do you see yourself; more like Martha or Mary lately?
2) Am I serving from a place of overflow or overwhelm?
3) What would it look like to invite Jesus into my daily rhythms?
We were never meant to carry it all alone.
Jesus doesn’t ask us to serve from exhaustion. He calls us to serve from overflow. And that overflow starts when we take time to sit at His feet—even if it’s just for five quiet minutes.
Fear comes in many forms. It can strike suddenly paralyzing us in an instant. Or it can linger like a low, relentless hum in the background of our lives. Sometimes it hides behind anger, pride, or control.
No one on earth is immune to it. Neither rich nor poor, powerful or vulnerable, educated or uneducated, fear touches us all.
I’ve watched both my daughters struggle with the fear of losing me. Tears in their eyes, voices trembling as they say, “Mummy, please don’t die.” Their little hearts gripped by a fear that’s far too big for them to carry. And honestly, it’s a fear that grips me too.
Because what do you say when their deepest fear is one you can’t promise away?
As a mother, I long to shield them from pain but I’ve learned since that this is where faith steps in. Faith in a Heavenly Father who promises to never leave them.
A God who sees them, loves them, and holds their future when I no longer can.
Fear was born in a garden.
When Adam and Eve ate from the tree God told them not to, their eyes were opened and they realized they were naked.
Shame entered. They hid.
And for the first time in human history, fear took root in the human heart.
Fear of exposure. Fear of punishment.
What began as perfect communion was now marked by hiding and fear. And humanity has been wrestling with it ever since.
But God…
But God, in His omniscience, knew. He knew how fear would entangle our hearts. He knew how easily we’d be swayed by “what ifs” and worst-case scenarios. And in His mercy, He didn’t leave us without help.
The Bible is full of encouragement for the fearful heart. One of the most repeated commands in Scripture is, “Do not be afraid.” Not because fear will never come, but because we’re never meant to face it alone.
“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God.”
(Isaiah 41:10)
“When I am afraid, I will trust in You.”
(Psalm 56:3)
“Perfect love casts out fear.”
(1 John 4:18)
God doesn’t shame us for being afraid. He meets us in it. He offers His presence, His promises, and His peace.
Even Jesus…
Even Jesus, fully God, yet fully man knew what it was to face fear.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, just hours before His arrest and crucifixion, He fell to the ground and prayed:
“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” (Matthew 26:38)
He pleaded with the Father: “If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me. Yet not as I will, but as You will.” (Matthew 26:39)
Jesus felt the weight of what was coming; pain, abandonment, the wrath of sin. He sweat drops of blood, a sign of extreme anguish. He didn’t deny His fear. He brought it to the Father.
And in doing so, He showed us the most powerful way to confront our fears: through surrendered trust.
Here are two applicable truths to help us deal with our fear.
1. God’s Presence Is Greater Than Our Fear
Fear magnifies in isolation when we feel like we’re facing the unknown alone. But Scripture reminds us over and over that God is with us, right in the middle of the fear.
“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.” Isaiah 41:10
God never promises a life free from fear but He does promise His presence. And His presence changes everything. We may still feel afraid, but we’re not abandoned. We’re not alone.
2. We Face Fear by Trusting in God’s Character
Fear feeds on uncertainty, but faith rests on the unchanging character of God.
“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” Psalm 56:3
We may not know what the future holds, but we do know who God is; Faithful. Good. Sovereign. The more we anchor our hearts in His truth through Scripture, prayer, and recounting His faithfulness, the less power fear has over us.
Finally, one night, after a terrible episode of fear losing her grandma, I sat beside my eldest as she cried. I taught her to surrender her fear to God.
It was too heavy for her young heart to carry, so we prayed and gave it to the One who can. She found peace not because the fear vanished, but because she trusted God with it.
Cypress And Myrtle 