Brice Mitchell

There are seasons you can explain, and then there are seasons that leave you quiet.

Lately, I’ve found myself running out of words — not because there isn’t anything to say, but because what the Lord has done feels too weighty to reduce to language. It hasn’t been perfect. It hasn’t been easy. But it has been marked by His nearness in ways I didn’t know I needed.

I’ve seen His kindness in the small, hidden spaces.
His grace in the moments I felt least deserving.
His faithfulness not just in breakthrough, but in the slow, steady forming of becoming more like Jesus.

And all I can really say is this: I’m in awe.

Awe that He would draw near.
Awe that He would sustain.
Awe that He would choose to use someone like me at all.

If this season has taught me anything, it’s that He is better than I imagined, gentler than I expected, and more faithful than I could ever fully comprehend.

He is so, so kind.

As this past year comes to an end, and staring at the precipice of the next, I’m lost for words. How do you look back and even begin to explain all that God did? It’s as if I’m standing on a hill, gazing at the sun rising to the east, while looking backward and remembering all that I got to experience on the journey that led to this moment.

The adventure I got invited into.
The depths of the heart of the Father I got to discover.
The love I had the chance to receive.
The freedom I got to step into.
The people I got to meet.
The ministry I got to participate in.

I look back with tears welling in my eyes because by the grace of God the man I am today is not the man I was a year ago. I am more awake and alive than I have ever been in my 32 years of existence.

So how do you do it? How do you reflect and even attempt to grasp the goodness of God you had the opportunity to witness?

Well, I don’t think you do.

Instead, I think you give it the weight it deserves, you give glory to God and honor to those who changed you for the better, and then in the words of Paul, “one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

You reflect. You celebrate. You wipe the tears of joy from your eyes. But then you fix your eyes on Jesus, and with a newfound confidence and a fresh fire in your heart, you grip the straps of your book bag, take a step into the next adventure, and press on.

Here’s to pressing on in 2026.

“Why are you driving out to Indy again?”

Her.