SophieJ Life Experiences

I’ve been fasting with my church since January 3rd for the third year in a row. If I’m being honest, I’m struggling a bit to feel connected this time.

I’ve taken the time to sit with this feeling, turning it over gently and asking myself why nothing seems to stand out. I’ve prayed about it and reflected on it, yet there’s still this quiet sense that something is missing.

For some context: years ago, long before I joined, the church leadership decided that each year would begin with a month-long fast. The intention behind this was simple yet profound: to connect more deeply with God, refocus our attention on spiritual matters, and set the tone for the year ahead. Each fast is anchored in a yearly theme.

In 2023, I was juggling a master’s program, my internship, and a full-time job. The fast felt grounding, almost necessary.
In 2024, I was deep in grief, and frankly, the fast provided a structure when everything else felt undone.

Now, in 2025, the theme is restoration. While I appreciate the concept, I’ve found myself struggling to fully embrace it at times. I’m not being hard on myself about it, but I had high expectations. This month was a kind of reset, a spiritual exhale to welcome the new year. Instead, it feels quieter and subtler.

Then it hit me: I’m no longer in a “new year, new me” season of life. I don’t crave a spiritual high or reinvention. What I want is continuity: continued growth, more profound closeness with God, and the ability to settle into who I already am without chasing external validation. Perhaps this shift in mindset has changed how I experience this fasting season.

Lately, I’ve found immense comfort in Scripture. Not because it’s providing grand revelations every morning, but because it meets me where I already am. Some passages feel less like breakthroughs and more like gentle reminders: Keep going. You’re already doing the work. Strangely enough, this realization has helped me feel more steadfast in my commitment to restoration and growth.

If we’re being sincere, we’re collectively burned out.

2025 has been incredibly challenging for many people in various ways. Here in North America, the weight of it has been especially heavy, and it’s not over, not by a long shot. The news alone can dysregulate our nervous systems, which is why I’ve been avoiding it this month. There’s simply too much that unsettles us daily.

God, do we need restoration.

I’ve been asking myself: Where do I feel the most broken? What parts of my life are calling out to be repaired, either quietly or loudly?

For me, it’s my finances, my social life, and even my spiritual life. However, I admit that one feels particularly vulnerable. Perhaps that’s why my hopes for this fast were so high in the first place.

Growing up and maturing aren’t easy tasks. Showing up for myself, resisting avoidance, and practicing self-compassion have become integral to my daily life, helping me choose myself. Of course, the little voices of doubt, criticism, and fear still pop up from time to time, but I’m learning that they, too, are part of the process.

I’ve come to realize that restoration doesn’t always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes it comes quietly through steadiness, gentleness, and the commitment to keep showing up even when nothing feels dramatic.

And maybe… that’s enough.