Pressing on in Faith through Uncharted Seasons

Every new beginning carries tension. Hope and uncertainty often arrive together. Interestingly, faith does not erase chaos; more often, it calls us to rise above it. Scripture shows us this pattern again and again: when the path ahead is unclear, when fear presses in, when confusion clouds vision, God’s people are not promised an easy road, but they are promised His presence.

“Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me.” (Psalm 23:4)

Notice the language. We are not promised a walk in the park, a bed of roses, or a knife-through-butter kind of life. We are promised companionship. God does not deny the valley; He walks with us through it. The promise is not avoidance, but presence: “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

This matters, because the walk of faith is rarely comfortable.

First, the path to unfamiliar destinations almost always runs against our internal safety mechanisms. New terrain triggers alarms in the mind: fear, hesitation, self-preservation. This is a natural response. The unknown feels dangerous because it lies outside our control. Yet Scripture consistently shows that growth rarely happens in familiar territory. The Israelites did not leave Egypt into clarity. They left into uncertainty. With an army behind them and a sea before them, they were told to move forward. The way only opened after obedience met trust.

Second, walking with God does not rely on the senses. Faith demands movement without full visibility. This creates a profound sense of vulnerability, a surrender of control to a Guide outside ourselves. Dependency is uncomfortable, especially in a world that prizes autonomy and self-direction. But transformation requires surrender. To be remoulded, something in us must yield. Resistance is often highest just before growth begins. Elijah’s experience captures this clearly. In despair, he hid in a cave, expecting God to appear in power: through the wind, the earthquake, or the fire. But God was none of those things. Elijah had to move beyond the noise, expectation, and spectacle to encounter Him in stillness. The encounter required movement through fear, exhaustion, and inner resistance.

Third, following God’s path inevitably makes the world uncomfortable. Light disrupts darkness simply by existing. As we walk in step with the Light of the world, we are shaped by the Light. Through seeking, trusting, pressing on, and choosing faith, we begin to discover truths. For “it is the glory of God to conceal a thing, but the honour of kings is to search out a matter” (Proverbs 25:2). What we discover through surrender does not remain hidden. The truths we encounter reshape us, and that reshaping becomes visible. As we reflect more of that light, attention follows, but not all of it is welcome. For  ‘… men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved.’ (Jn 3:19,20)  Yet this is also why the Shepherd carries a rod and a staff. Protection and guidance are part of the promise.

Faith is not pretending the valley isn’t real. It is choosing not to be ruled by fear within it. Hope is not denial of pain; it is confidence in God’s character.

As this new season begins, when clarity is still forming and the path is not yet mapped, let us choose the path of faith.

Let us press higher, even when the path feels unfamiliar.

Let us walk forward, trusting not our senses, but the Shepherd who walks with us.

The valley is not the end.

The presence of God is the constant. And the pursuit, carried out in faith, is never wasted.

Welcome to 2026. May we walk in faith and not fear.