A Blank Calendar

January 1, 2026 - New Year's Day

Greg

LGBTQIA+ Person of Faith

Quote

“See, I am making all things new.”

~Revelation 21:5 (NRSV)

Devotion

There’s something both terrifying and exhilarating about a blank calendar. All those empty squares stretching out before us, waiting to be filled with appointments, celebrations, heartbreaks, and ordinary Tuesdays. On New Year’s Day, we stand at a threshold, caught between what was and what might be.

For many of us in the LGBTQIA+ community, the concept of “new” carries extra weight. We know what it’s like to shed old names, old pronouns, old ways of being that never quite fit. We understand the vulnerability of stepping into a truer version of ourselves, even when the world isn’t always ready to receive us. We’ve experienced the grief and the freedom that come with leaving behind relationships, communities, or pieces of ourselves that we’ve outgrown.

When the writer of Revelation proclaims that God is “making all things new,” it’s not a promise of easy renovation or surface-level change. This is the God who creates something from nothing, who brings life from death, who sees the possibility in what others have dismissed as beyond redemption.

What strikes me most about this verse is that it’s in the present tense. God is making all things new, not “will make” or “has made,” but is actively, continually engaged in the work of renewal. Even now. Even in us. Even on this ordinary January morning when the holiday decorations are coming down and regular life is resuming.

This year, you don’t have to be a finished product. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You are allowed to be a work in progress, held in the hands of a God who delights in transformation and who sees the beautiful thing you’re becoming.

Reflection

1. Where in your life right now do you sense God’s ongoing work of making things new, even if it’s uncomfortable or incomplete?

2. How has your understanding of yourself or God been made new through your identity and journey?

Action

Write a letter to yourself to open on December 31, 2026. Include one hope you have for who you’ll be by then, one thing you’re grateful for right now, and one promise you want to make to your future self about how you’ll care for yourself this year.

We’ll Drink a Cup of Kindness Yet

Wednesday, December 31, 2025 - New Year's Eve

The Rev. Dr. Ben Huelskamp (he/they)

Executive Director, LOVEboldly

Queer Christian

Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot in the days of auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear! For auld lang syne! We'll drink a cup of kindness yet; for the sake of auld lang syne.

Auld Lang Syne—the traditional toast to the old year and welcome to the new year across much of the English- speaking world—is at once a confusing Scottish folk hymn and a reflection on everything the past, present, and future hold. Each of us spends December 31 differently. Many of us gather with friends with alcohol flowing and assorted food set out for the celebration.

Some of us hold vigil, reflecting on the trials and successes of one year and the unknown character of the year to come. Others treat the night as any other night and go about our routines without distraction.

When LOVEboldly began the plans of producing this devotional it was early January 2024, nearly two years ago now. As you read these words now, written more than a year ago, I hope they find you experiencing some form of peace and safety. I hope that your New Year’s Eve 2025 allows you the space to plan and prepare for all that 2026 has in store for you.

Reflection

What went well for you in 2025?

Where are you looking for improvements in 2026?

Action

Whether you make resolutions and whatever those resolutions might be, resolve to put positive action into the world every day. Your action will multiply and be an example to others.

Can I Open It?

Monday, December 29, 2025

Happy Monday and Happy Holidays, my friends! There’s a certain magic connected with the winter holidays and often the best place to find it is in the eyes of a child who still believes in Santa Claus. For me that’s my nephew, Jack. On Christmas Eve we continued a tradition started by my brother-in-law’s dad of feasting on Chinese food and then opening presents among the six of us. After presents and dinner, we drove around Urbana looking at Christmas lights, including two houses that went all out with coordinated music on the radio. Jack’s eyes lit up in a way that only children’s eyes can.

But on Christmas Day, Jack was the only kid with ten of his favorite adults. When it came time to open presents (which would have been as soon as Jack arrived if he had his way), Jack begrudgingly accepted the tradition that the youngest person who can walk plays Santa. After selecting and opening three of his own gifts, he grabbed a large gift bag, delivered it to its recipient, and asked in a loud voice, “Can I open it?”

Innocently asked, “Can I open it?” is the ultimate expression of joy. It means we’re excited about what’s inside because we know it might be and likely is something good. We want to dive in and explore the gift, the situation, or the curiosity. Nothing makes us dread what might come next. That type of joy isn’t readily available to most adults and even many children. We unfortunately know that many surprises are not the kind to be awaited with expectant wonder. Yet, if we slow down for a few moments, we might be able to experience a little of that joy, a hint of that wonder.

This is one of the lessons the Christmas season[1] tries to teach us. The world wasn’t expecting anything special that night and yet the liberator and savior of the world was born. In the midst of all our expectations, fears, and uncertainties, something extraordinary can enter our reality and nothing will be the same after.

Where are you finding joy this Christmas season? Are there any places or events where joy surprised you?

Let us pray: God, you sent us joy at Christmas in the person of your Son. Continue sending us moments of joy which surprise and challenge us, particularly when our world and reality seem the most joyless. Help us find the joy which you inspire and people around us fulfill. We ask this in the name of your Son, Jesus. Amen.

Blessings on your weeks, my friends! Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.

Faithfully,

Ben +

[1] Remember, the Christmas season lasts until Epiphany on January 6.