Crossing Egypt’s threshold

There has always been something unsettling about the New Year and the doors that are not quite open. Standing on the threshold of what has been and what lies ahead often feels vulnerable and uncertain. The calendar turns, but clarity doesn’t always arrive. I know the New Year is an invitation forward. However, not knowing what waits on the other side is unsettling.
This season carries a strange mix of anticipation and hesitation. As I think about what I’ve survived, what I’ve lost, I realize there are some things I’ve carried longer than I should have. And yet, at the same time, I feel the pull of possibility – a quiet stirring, even if I cannot yet name it. That is hope. This uneasiness isn’t from a lack of faith; it is the tension of moving forward, trusting before understanding.
Here’s the hard part: I want certainty, assurance, a map in my hands before I step. But life rarely works that way. Most of the time, faith is quiet, lived in the ordinary – in small decisions and slow mornings, in routines that pass unseen, in acts no one notices, when there is no applause.
The New Year reminds me that moving forward rarely begins with grand gestures. It begins with willingness, with obedience in the small, ordinary corners of our lives, and with trusting that God is already at work – behind unopened doors and in the shadows where we cannot see the path.
Long before the promise was fulfilled, Abraham was asked to leave his father’s household and step into a land God had promised him – the land of His covenant. How heavy that step must have felt – leaving the familiar, stepping into uncertainty, trusting a promise he could not see. His steps of faith set the path toward the promised land, a journey God would continue through Moses and ultimately fulfill through His Son (Genesis 12).
Moses, too, faced daunting steps. God called him at the burning bush to lead a nation out of slavery. Each step – from fear to courage, from the bush to Egypt – required trust before understanding. Every act of obedience moved the story forward, even amid uncertainty. Each door God opened led His people out of bondage, continuing Abraham’s journey and drawing them closer to Him.
Mary and Joseph faced their own “Egypt.” God warned them to flee, and in the middle of the night, with a newborn in their care, they left everything familiar. Danger was real – Herod’s violence threatened lives – but they trusted God and obeyed. God later called His Son out of Egypt, back into the promised land, fulfilling His plan in ways no one could have imagined. The miracle moved with them, each step met with God’s guidance and grace (Matthew 2:13–15).
And here we are, standing on our own thresholds. Our “Egypts” may look different – fear, grief, uncertainty – but God is calling us forward. He is calling us out of what holds us back and into the future He has promised. The same grace that led Abraham and Moses, that carried Mary and Joseph, that brought His Son safely from danger – this same God is calling us still, asking us to step forward, trusting even when the path is not yet clear. Each step we take, each door we open, is a small act of faith – and, in God’s hands, it is part of a story far greater than we can imagine.
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? Isaiah 43:18–19

Editor: This is a repeat of a column that appeared in January 2024.