Yesterday, during my Bible study on animals in Scripture, I was certain the donkey would teach me a lesson about stubbornness. After all, isn't that what donkeys are famous for? But God had something entirely different and far more beautiful in store for me.

As I studied the account of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, it hit me like a thunderbolt. That little donkey wasn't chosen because of what he could carry but because of who he would carry. He wasn't meant to haul heavy burdens. He was meant to carry the Light of the World. And here's where it gets personal: we're just like that donkey.

How many times have I trudged through my days feeling like a pack mule, weighed down by worry, responsibility, and those endless "what-ifs" that plague my thoughts? I've rounded my shoulders under the weight of "should-haves" and stumbled over obligations that were never mine to bear. I've been so busy carrying the load that I forgot I was meant to carry the Light.

In my last devotion, I shared how, over the past week or so, Wales has been graced with a beautiful blanket of snow. Not long after I wrote that devotion, we woke up to around seven inches of white, fluffy snow. It was beautiful, though Tess, our little terrier, did not appreciate it at all! Still, there's something magical about fresh snowfall...at least until you have to walk through it.

Despite the cool and crazy weather, Jason and I have tried to maintain our daily habit of going out for a pleasant family walk. We've bundled up against the cold and put on our best boots. Tess has been sporting her stylish purple jacket with a cozy fleece lining. It's been quite the adventure, let me tell you!

Have you noticed how some of the most profound spiritual truths are hidden in the most ordinary moments? Like watching snow fall for the umpteenth time and suddenly seeing something you've never seen before?

We've been experiencing unusual weather here in mid-Wales since the start of the year. Each night we've had a snowfall, not heavy or majorly significant, but enough to wake up to a lovely blanket of snow covering the ground. The days have been very cold yet sunny, so by the end of the day, much of the snow has melted, allowing us to see the muddy pastures and the wet asphalt of our driveway again. Then, overnight, another snowfall would come and leave a blanket of snow on the ground, only to be met that day by sunshine that would melt it. This process has repeated over and over again for several days now.

I think I’ve discovered a new favorite animal, and surprisingly, it’s not a dog. It’s the coney, also known as the rock badger or rock hyrax. Picture a chubby, rabbit-sized creature with short legs, a round body, and a constant expression of “I wasn’t ready for this photo.” Not exactly fierce or intimidating. In fact, the Bible describes it this way: “The conies are but a feeble folk, yet make they their houses in the rocks” (Proverbs 30:26).

“Feeble folk” is a pretty accurate description. Rock hyraxes struggle to regulate their body temperature and rely heavily on their environment to survive. They can’t handle extreme heat or cold for long, so what do they do? They bask. A lot.

I recently watched a video from a YouTuber who makes his living as a content creator. In this video, he warned against telling people if you do YouTube for a living because many don't understand what that means. He shared a story about meeting friends over the holidays. When they asked what he was doing these days, he struggled to explain his job as a YouTuber. His excuse was that he hadn't anticipated the conversation and wasn't ready with an answer.

I had to laugh initially, but then it got me thinking. Here was a man who talks to a camera for hours each week, uploading content about his life and work, yet he couldn't provide a simple explanation when asked about his job face-to-face. The irony struck me. But before I became too smug in my judgment, the Lord nudged my heart with a convicting question: Am I any different when it comes to my faith? 

It's that time of year again. The clock struck midnight, the calendar flipped to January, and suddenly everyone's talking about their resolutions. Weight loss usually tops the charts. Gym memberships skyrocket, salad sales increase dramatically, and social media feeds fill with "new year, new me" declarations.

While physical health goals are certainly commendable (and something this poor body of mine could benefit from), statistics show that by February, about 80% of these well-intentioned resolutions will have been abandoned. The treadmills will empty, the salad containers will be pushed to the back of the fridge, and life will resume its comfortable, familiar patterns.

But what if I told you there's another kind of weight loss that might be more worth pursuing this year?

Today is the final day of the year. We started this month with anticipation, celebrated the birth, and reflected on the promise. Now, as one year closes and another opens, our final devotion must focus on carrying the Christ-centered message forward.

The Christmas story is the beginning of God's redemption plan, but it is not the end. The manger leads to the ministry, the miracles, the cross, and the empty tomb.

Our vision for the new year must be shaped by the ultimate destination of the Christ-child: the triumphant King. The best way to enter a new season is to keep Christ squarely in our field of vision.

We are one day away from the New Year. Today is a great day to look back over the month and realize that everything we need for the future is wrapped up in the promise of the manger.

The Christmas story isn't just a sweet memory. It is a guarantee of God's provision for everything to come. The most powerful promise we have for the next twelve months is affirmed by the fact that God has already fulfilled the ultimate promise.

Paul’s words to the Philippians are a beautiful summary of the meaning of Christmas (Philippians 4:19, KJV): "But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus."

As we move toward the New Year, let's discuss the symbolism of bells, which we hear so often at this time of year. Bells are designed to be heard far and wide, announcing important news, signaling celebration, or calling people to attention.

The triumphant ringing of the Christmas season should remind us of our calling to be a witness to the good news we’ve spent the whole month reflecting on.

The prophet Isaiah captured the joy of the messenger perfectly (Isaiah 52:7, KJV): "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!"

We have been focused this month on God's great, cosmic plan. But let's take a moment today to appreciate the profound truth of God working through what is small and weak.

The entire Christmas story is a series of tiny, humble triumphs:

• A tiny, overlooked village (Bethlehem).

• A tiny, powerless family (Mary and Joseph).

• A tiny, helpless infant (Jesus).

God chose the smallest package possible—a vulnerable baby—to deliver the greatest power the world has ever known. This is a recurring theme in God's kingdom.

Paul affirms this principle in 1 Corinthians 1:27 (KJV): "But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty."