It’s hard to admit when something’s over.

Sometimes we don’t want to admit to ourselves that the grace has lifted from a job, a role, a position, a ministry, or even a relationship. Admitting it means that we have to do something about it, and that can feel frightening, costly, and deeply unsettling.

Deep down, though, we know when something has reached its expiration date.

It no longer brings joy, only weariness. It no longer energises, it depletes. What once felt light now feels heavy. What once stirred expectancy now brings dread. What once felt like home now feels like survival.

There was a time when you prayed for this. You were grateful then, and you still are. It was perfect for who you were in that season. It simply no longer fits who you have become.

And that is not failure.

There comes a moment in every assignment when God, in His gentleness, says:

A release is not rejection. An ending is not abandonment. It is often the clearest sign that obedience has been completed.

As this year draws to a close and we step toward 2026, I find myself once again in a season of transition. We always knew this church would be temporary and Clive has never truly felt at home here. It is time to move from a place where we are merely tolerated to a place where vision and ministry are celebrated.

John Maxwell teaches that when your environment no longer inspires growth, it is time to change your environment. That truth has become our compass as we begin this new year.

Four years ago, we shifted under the weight of vaccine passport wounding. I lay choir on the altar and, in time, received an unexpected upgrade into the worship team. That laying down was painful, yet it was holy.

This time, the laying down cuts even closer. I am releasing worship team and flag dancing. I will miss it dearly, just as I missed choir. Still, I sense God whispering of a fifth function being added to my studio, a place of dance and worship, a sacred space where creativity and devotion meet. I trust that one day, when the vision has fully come to fruition, God will add a choir director, and I will once again take my place among the voices.

Obedience often looks like loss before it looks like fruit.

In the weeks ahead, I will rearrange my studio to make room for the Nexus Connect Learning and Growth Hub. What is ending is making space for what is being born.

Leaving well matters. Exiting with gratitude honours what was, even as we bless what will be.

Just because something is finished does not mean that you are finished.

God has so much more waiting on the other side of your obedience. The door closing behind you is not a punishment; it is protection. The path ahead is not emptiness; it is preparation.

Walk forward gently. Carry gratitude with you. Trust the One who releases you.

💡 Reflection:

• What has God been quietly signalling is complete in this season 🤔

• Where might obedience be inviting you to release something you once loved 🤔

• What new space is being created in your life through this ending 🤔

🎺 Affirmation:

I honour the seasons God has entrusted to me. I release what is complete with gratitude, and I step forward in faith, trusting that God is leading me into what is next.

🙌 Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You for every season You have walked me through. Give me grace to release what is complete without fear or regret. Heal every tender place where letting go feels costly. Lead me forward with clarity, courage, and trust. I place my future in Your hands, confident that You are faithful to finish what You have begun.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.