Resolutions or Rest?

by | 19 Dec, 2025 | Carey Staff | 0 comments

Resolutions or Rest?

by Paul Jones

As 2025 draws to a close, it’s a good time to ask, ‘how’s everything going?’

Unfortunately, a question like that often gets us thinking back to NY’s resolutions from last January. We can beat ourselves up, asking whether those aspirations became habits this year, or whether we’ll resolve again in a few weeks to prioritise the same things in 2026.

Ugh… That’s not my purpose here. Quite the contrary! As Christmas approaches, I want to suggest we take our eyes off self-evaluation and consider some of the big gifts around us. Let me give you three examples of the sort of thing I’m talking about. I invite you to reflect on how these gifts magnify your vision.

First, let’s step right back – you may even need to lie down – to consider the really big picture. I mean that overarching account of all things that provides patterns and meaning to all our experience—the ‘metanarrative,’ if you don’t mind big words. The biblical story, from ‘God created the heavens and the earth’ (Gen 1.1) to ‘I am renewing all things’ (Rev 21.5), is a story of commitments made and broken, of beautiful creativity and unrelenting love, but also of stubborn rebellion and self-inflicted blindness. All of our stories are already there. The Bible tells an enormous story that we are now caught up in, and personal resolutions don’t change that. It can be humbling (and stress-relieving!) to recognise that we’ve been baptised into an epic tale of wonder where we are the recipients of faithfulness and grace that wasn’t on anyone’s 2025 to-do list. So bask in that for a moment. Don’t ask ‘Did I do enough?’ but rather ‘How has this larger story quietly carried me?’ If that feels disorienting, good. It’s meant to. The Christian story has always been bigger than our strategies and sturdier than our habits. And that’s not an excuse for being passive; it’s a recalibration of scale, a wider perspective. The weight of holding the world together does not rest on our follow-through, but on God’s faithfulness. Christmas, after all, begins not with any of our plans, but with God’s promise being kept.

Second, within the great framing of our biblical story, how have we lived within that story together as the Church in 2025? Not what did we achieve or innovate, but when plans broke or energy dipped, what endured? What carried you? Like me, you might struggle to even list your resolutions from last January. But like me, I suspect you can name the people, the conversations, and the moments that quietly formed you. This is where gratitude is not about being polite, but becomes a way of telling the truth about the year without pretending it was any easier than it was. For my part, I can tell you straight up: my year’s been hard. Full of change since January! But I’ve been carried by the patience of others as I learn slowly, I’ve been inspired by the faithfulness of my family that often feels routine; I’ve been inspired by new relationships that have welcomed a stranger and made space for difference. So take notice: a lot of what mattered most in 2025 happened without fanfare—some of it even without our noticing. Our church and family communities are bigger than us, which is just as well because they can carry us. And they help us to finish the year differently—with a thoughtful pause rather than a judgmental verdict. December is a chance to look and see that God’s work among us, and between us, has been steady. And that, too, is part of the tremendous story we’re caught up in.

Paul Jones_Jul2025 (533x800)
Paul Jones, Principal

Finally, for us who have been formed through study or work at Carey, it’s important to step back and see that 2025 has been a year of exciting forward movement—growth in some areas, change in others, and the kinds of adjustments that come with being alive rather than static. None of this is surprising for a community that has existed to serve God’s purposes for a century. Change happens as we are faithful through time.

But again the same compulsion rears its head: as we reach our 100-year anniversary in 2026, it’s tempting to frame the moment in terms of legacy or momentum. Yet a centenary is less about proving success than receiving a gift. One hundred years testifies not to uninterrupted certainty or uniformity, but to sustained faithfulness across generations—people who taught, learned, prayed, adapted, disagreed, and kept showing up.

So as we step back to consider Carey’s big picture, the Church’s big picture, and the whole world’s big picture, perhaps the right posture is neither nostalgia nor ambition, but gratitude. Gratitude for those who came before us, for the work entrusted to us now, and for a future we can’t see. We are carried. As we look to the church that Carey exists to empower and equip, let’s remember that it’s not our church. It never has been. This is God’s initiative to reconcile the world to himself. And if the story we belong to really is as big and gracious as Scripture claims, then Carey’s next chapter—like its first hundred years—will be written not by our determined resolutions, but by discernment, trust, and hope in a God whose right hand holds us fast (Ps 139.10).

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