🌿 Learning to Listen: Rhythms of Renewal for 2025

Pause, listen, and start the year with God’s still, small voice.

The start of a new year feels full of contradictions—hope and hesitation, joy and exhaustion, renewal and remembering. As I sit here coming up for air after the whirlwind of December, I feel both the relief of a new beginning and the weight of unknowing. Maybe you feel it, too.

This space, Year of Breath, is an invitation to pause, reflect, and breathe in the middle of it all. To begin this year, I’m some reflections from my heart—a glimpse into what I’m holding as we step into 2025 and an invitation to think about your own rhythms for the year ahead.

Rhythms of Renewal

If we’re adding to the noise, turn off this song. That old Switchfoot lyric tends to randomly pop into my noisy brain every few years, and it has been playing in my mind a lot lately. The noise of life—literal and figurative—feels like it’s at an all-time high. Social media, content overload, societal pressures, heartbreaking headlines, and the endless demands of family life are loud. So often, they drown out God’s still, small voice.

As I step into the New Year and give myself a pep talk to take down our Christmas trees, I find myself thinking about paring down—not just the sparkling holiday decor, but the blaring speakers playing on repeat in my mind and my soul. What rhythms and habits can I cultivate that make room for God to speak into the radio static of my real, messy life? What do I need to let go of to make that space for silence?

December is an opulent month for many of us. (Or at least more full than usual.) We eat rich foods (On New Year’s Day, I told my husband I was worried I was turning into a block of cheese), spend more money, host parties, and fill our days with all kinds of extras.

This rhythm of feasting in December and fasting in January has been co-opted by consumerism (Buy these Christmas presents! And then buy these diet supplements!). But at its core, the idea of feasting and fasting can actually be good for our souls. The Christian calendar reflects this: Advent is a season of fasting as we wait for the feast of Christmas, and Lent invites us into reflection and simplicity before the feast of Easter.

St. Basil the Great¹ wrote, “Fasting gives wings to prayers.” Faithful rhythms aren’t about rigid religious rules—they’re about making space for God to move in and through us.

We can also bring these rhythms into our everyday lives in simple, approachable ways. Feasting isn’t just for holidays—it’s pausing to savor a family dinner, delighting in belly laughs with your kids, or noticing the warmth of your morning coffee (or tea, if you’re one of those people). And fasting doesn’t have to mean skipping meals—it might be saying no to unnecessary noise, stepping away from distractions, or intentionally making time for silence and stillness by praying before bed instead of scrolling TikTok. (You can find more about fasting—with connection questions, family prayers, and more on page 170 of my book Every Season Sacred.)

When we journey through the year with rhythms of feasting and fasting, we welcome God to the table in both abundance and lack. Immanuel, God-with-us, reminds us that God is present in the mashed potatoes and belly laughs just as much as in the quiet moments where we pause to hear that still, small voice.

As we make room, we find that listening is at the heart of these rhythms—listening to our souls' needs, the stories of those around us, and, ultimately, the gentle voice of God. It is this kind of listening, not a fresh set of New Year’s resolutions, that leads us to true restoration and renewal.

Listening to Listen

If we want to extend love to our families, communities, and the work in front of us—to create a world where all may flourish—we must first open ourselves to receive God’s love.

We have to listen so that we can listen. This isn’t a one-time thing. It happens again and again until the end of our days. (You can find the “Listening” chapter on page 32 of Every Season Sacred, which has reflections about this, family connection questions, family prayers, breath prayer, and more.)

One of the rhythms I want to nurture this year is being quiet enough to hear God’s voice so that I can be present and attentive in the places I’m called to serve. I want to create space for God to renew and restore what feels worn down and weary.

As a parent, I’ve honed the skill of tuning out my kids’ yelling or the endless sounds of their screens. I may hear that episode of Big City Greens, but I’m not truly listening.

Spiritual listening is quieting the noise inside and outside us long enough to pay attention to the truer reality within and around us. In a New Year’s Resolution world that shouts, “Do more! Be more! Say more!” listening feels counter-cultural. It invites us to slow down, to sit with what’s uncomfortable, and to notice what might otherwise be missed. Listening requires intention—a choice to lean into the stillness rather than fill it.

For me, listening often starts with acknowledging the layers of noise I carry. The mental lists. The second-guessing. The nagging worries about how much I’m doing or not doing.

But the beauty of listening is that it doesn’t demand perfection—just presence.

As Thomas Keating often said, prayer is listening with the heart.

When I listen well, I notice things I’d usually miss: the way my child lingers after a bedtime story, hoping I’ll stay a little longer. The truth tucked into a friend’s offhand comment, revealing more than they meant to. The subtle stirring in my own heart, hinting at what needs tending.

In 2025, are you willing to hear what God might be saying in the moments that aren’t just full of feasting or fasting — but the ones that are mundane as well?

Photo by Marra on Unsplash

The Art of Adapting

My husband is a sourdough baker. If you’ve ever baked sourdough, you know it’s part science, part art, and a whole lot of adjusting. A colder house means a longer rise. A hot summer calls for less water. Every tiny change—flour, yeast, temperature—affects the recipe, and he adapts accordingly.

Our lives are like that, too. What worked last January might not work this January, and the rhythms that sustained us in one season may need to evolve in the next.

As we step into 2025: What does your recipe for this season look like? What needs adjusting? What’s worth holding onto, and what’s worth letting go?

Our Real Lives

2024 held so much goodness for me—speaking engagements, writing projects, travels with friends and family—but it also came with loneliness, fatigue, and the unrelenting demands of parenting. I know I’m not alone in this.

As parents, as people, we carry so much. We’re pulled in so many directions, and it’s easy to feel like we’re falling short.

But what if, this year, we chose small rhythms that give life instead of draining it? What if we made space for restoration and renewal in the middle of our loud, messy, beautiful, exhausting lives?

Year of Breath

Keep reading for the full (first of 2025!) edition of Year of Breath, the paid and private Liturgies for Parents newsletter and community.

You’ll find:

• Daily breath prayers

• Scripture

• A simple spiritual practice

• 20-minute instrumental playlist

• Guided reflection prompts

• Breath prayer phone wallpaper

• Weekly Benediction

Find more prayers in To Light Their Way and more soul care in Every Season Sacred.

Breath Prayer

Breath prayers are a simple yet powerful way to center your heart and mind throughout the day.

As you inhale and exhale, let these short prayers help you listen to God’s still, small voice in your daily rhythms.