New Year, New List

What do you want this year?

Every new year begins with desire.

It often starts as a list.

Goals. Habits. Intentions. Resolutions.

Things we hope will make life feel more meaningful…more complete.

But behind every list is something harder to name.

A deeper ache.

A quiet searching.

A thirst that doesn’t go away once the noise settles.

Even when the house is quiet.

Even when the work is done.

Even when the kids are asleep.

There’s still that sense that something more is being asked of us.

That ache—whatever shape it takes—is where this story begins.

A Familiar Kind of Hunger

In the opening chapter of the Gospel of John, we meet two men—Andrew and another unnamed man. Like many in their day, they were searching. Longing. Watching.

Their hunger had already led them to a man named John, often called the Baptist. His message was simple and unsettling:

“Repent, for the kingdom of God is near.”

For generations, the people of Israel had hoped for salvation—for deliverance from suffering, oppression, and exile. They believed God would act again, just as He had before. But the question lingered beneath the hope:

How will God save us?

It’s not so different from the question many of us carry today.

We may not call it salvation.

But we look for relief. For meaning. For rescue.

We try beliefs, practices, ideas, habits—anything that promises wholeness.

Andrew and the unnamed man were no different.

Their longing had led them to John’s message—and John’s message had prepared them to notice something new.

“Look, the Lamb of God!”

One day, everything shifts.

John sees Jesus passing by and says:

“Look, the Lamb of God!”

That’s it. No argument. No explanation. Just witness.

And Andrew and the other man do something quiet—but decisive.

They follow Him.

“What Do You Want?”

Jesus notices them and turns around.

The first recorded words Jesus speaks in the Gospel of John are not a sermon.

Not a miracle.

Not a command.

They are a question: “What do you want?”

It’s a question that exposes the heart.

Not what should you want.

Not what do you think you’re supposed to want.

But—what are you actually seeking?

That is the question we begin with this January.

Not answers.

Not outcomes.

But honesty.

“Where Are You Staying?”

Andrew and the other man respond with a question of their own:

“Teacher… where are You staying?”

It’s more than a request for directions.

It’s a recognition that salvation is not just something you believe—it’s a life you enter into.

They are asking where Jesus dwells.

Because if He is the one who saves, then being near Him matters.

Jesus doesn’t give them a location.

He gives them an invitation.

“Come, and you will see.”

The Invitation Still Stands

The Christian faith does not begin with mastery or certainty.

It begins with proximity.

Not with having all the answers—but with staying.

Not with performance—but with presence.

Andrew and the unnamed man went with Jesus that day.

And John tells us something simple and profound:

They stayed with Him.

Before miracles.

Before mission.

Before understanding.

They stayed.

Beginning the Year This Way

As we begin a new year, we’re choosing to start here.

Not with pressure.

Not with religious noise.

But with an invitation.

This January, we’re not rushing ahead.

We’re learning how to stay.

Each week, we’ll reflect on one simple movement from this story:

• Desire — What am I truly seeking?
• Direction — What am I orienting my life around? What am I chasing?
• Invitation — What step is Jesus inviting me into?
• Abiding — What rhythm helps me stay with Him—and who can walk with me in it?

This is how formation begins.

This is how a life in Jesus’ name takes root.

A Bold Invitation

If something in you is stirred while reading this—

If that ache feels familiar—

If you’re tired of chasing answers alone—

Then don’t walk this year by yourself.

I’m inviting you to join us in the Chasing the Wonder Community as we begin 2026 together.

Not as spectators.

Not as consumers.

But as people willing to stay.

This is a year for depth.

A year for formation.

A year for learning how to live—not in our own name—but in His.

Jesus’ invitation still stands.

“Come. And you will see.”