Happy New Year! As we step into this fresh new year of 2026 with our “Drawn Near” series, I invite you to pause with me in Week 1 and focus on something simple yet utterly transformative: awakening to God's gentle, persistent draw (invitation) on our hearts.
January often brings a flurry of activity, resolutions about health, finances, habits, and goals that promise a "better" version of ourselves. While there's nothing inherently wrong with growth, God frequently chooses this season to speak in a quieter, more intimate voice. He stirs within us a hunger not for greater achievement or self-mastery, but for deeper communion with Himself.
This awakening isn't a product of our own spiritual ambition or disciplined effort. It's entirely a gracious initiative, an invitation of the Holy Spirit, wooing us into the kind of relationship that sustains us far beyond any calendar year.
In the weeks ahead, we'll journey together through practices like honest prayer, meditative Scripture reading, silent listening, and fruitful abiding. But everything rests on this foundational week: learning to recognize the subtle, and sometimes surprisingly strong, ways God is already drawing us closer.
In this Bible study-style post, we'll examine four key passages that illuminate this theme. My heartfelt prayer is that as we unpack these Scriptures, the Holy Spirit will quicken your own heart, helping you sense His personal invitation afresh. You'll gain confidence to respond, stepping boldly into the rich intimacy He's extending right now, in this very season of your life.
The Promise of Mutual Nearness
Key Verse: James 4:8 NKJV – “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts, you double-minded.”
We start with one of the most direct invitations in the New Testament, nestled in the practical wisdom of James. To fully appreciate its impact, let's step back and look at the context.
In James 4:1-10, the apostle addresses the root causes of conflict: selfish desires that war within us, leading to quarrels and even spiritual unfaithfulness, likened to adultery against God (vv. 1–4). He quotes Proverbs 3:34 about God opposing the proud but giving grace to the humble (v. 6), then urges submission to God, resistance of the devil (v. 7), and heartfelt repentance: “Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up.” (v. 10).
Right in the center shines verse 8 a beacon of hope amid correction. The command to “draw near” is issued to “sinners” and “double-minded” people, emphasizing that God welcomes us long before we're polished and perfected.
Cleansing and purifying aren't prerequisites earned by our own efforts; they're responses enabled by His grace. The beauty lies in the mutuality: God calls out to us, and our initiative (however faltering) triggers God’s guaranteed response; He draws near.
What does this awakening look like in everyday life? It could be a fleeting sense of conviction during a podcast sermon, prompting you to turn off distractions and pray. Or perhaps an inner tug during family dinner, making you yearn for meaningful conversation about faith. You may also feel a strong desire for prayer, worship, and Bible study. These moments aren't psychological quirks; they're the Holy Spirit activating the Lord’s promise found in James.
Scripture abounds with examples. Recall Jacob's all-night wrestle with the Angel of the Lord in Genesis 32:24-32. He was a man divided by deceit, yet God drew near, renaming him Israel and blessing him. Or Peter's impulsive walk on water in Matthew 14:28-31: doubt caused him to sink, but a cry for help brought Jesus' immediate reach. Even the prodigal son in Luke 15 experienced this. His decision to return was met by his father's running embrace. God specializes in meeting divided, imperfect hearts like ours.
The Lover’s Call After Winter
Key Verse: Song of Songs 2:10-13 NKJV – “My beloved spoke, and said to me: ‘Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over, and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig puts forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grapes give a good smell. Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away!’”
Turning to the Old Testament poetry of Song of Songs (also called the Song of Solomon), we encounter God's pursuit in the language of passionate romance. This book, often read allegorically as Christ's love for His bride (the church—and by extension, individual believers), paints divine invitation with vivid, sensory detail.
The speaker (the Beloved) calls the lover to arise after winter's end: a season symbolizing barrenness, isolation, or hardship. For many entering a new year, spiritual winters linger with months of unanswered prayer, grief over losses, exhaustion from ministry or work, or quiet drifting from devotional habits. The declaration “the winter is past” isn't wishful thinking; it's a sovereign proclamation, rooted in God's timing rather than our feelings.
Over the coming months, the emerging signs: blooming flowers, singing birds, ripening fruit, fragrant vines, evoke Easter-like resurrection and abundant life (echoing John 10:10). God's awakening often mirrors this: a sudden warmth in worship where dryness prevailed, a Scripture passage blooming with fresh insight, or an unexpected joy bubbling up.
Church history offers inspiring parallels. St. Teresa of Ávila, in her book “Interior Castle,” described progressing from dutiful practice to ecstatic union, much like moving from winter to spring. St. John of the Cross coined the term “dark night of the soul” to describe purifying winters that lead to deeper love of God.
In our modern lives, recognizing this romantic call reframes spirituality from duty (“I must read my Bible”) to delight (“My Beloved desires my company”). He calls us “beautiful” not despite our flaws, but through Christ's covering of them. If echoes of winter remain, lean into His repeated plea: Arise. Come away. A new season of intimacy awaits.
The Holy Thirst in Dry Places
Key Verse: Psalm 42:1-5 NKJV – “As the deer pants for the water brooks, so pants my soul for You, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night, while they continually say to me, ‘Where is your God?’ When I remember these things, I pour out my soul within me. For I used to go with the multitude; I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept a pilgrim feast. Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance.”
The honesty of the Psalms provides comfort for those whose awakening feels more like discomfort. Attributed to the sons of Korah (temple servants possibly in exile), Psalm 42 voices intense longing amid apparent absence. The deer panting for water evokes desperation; a hunted animal risking everything for sustenance and refreshment.
This thirst is compounded by tears, sleepless nights, and taunts questioning God's reality. Yet, crucially, the psalmist preaches to his soul: remembering past faithfulness and directing hope Godward. The panting itself proves spiritual vitality; apathetic souls feel no thirst.
For contemporary believers, January awakenings sometimes arrive as dryness; devotions feel mechanical, worship lacks emotion, and doubts loom larger. Reassuringly, this “holy thirst” is often God's strategy to detach us from idols (career success, social approval, comfort) and attach us solely to Him.
Jesus amplified this in the New Testament: At the Feast of Tabernacles (John 7:37-39), He invited the thirsty to drink living water, which is the Holy Spirit. In Revelation 21:6 and 22:17, the offer extends eternally, free to all who thirst. What’s our practical response? Persevere in small acts: journaling honest laments, sitting silently before God, or reading Psalms aloud. The psalmist's shift from despair to hope models the path; thirst leads to satisfaction when directed to the Source. If dryness marks your start this year, embrace it as a divine draw/invitation, and know that streams are coming to you in this parched season.
The Personal Call by Name
Key Verse: Isaiah 43:1-4 NKJV– “But now thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob, and He who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…since you are precious in My sight, you have been honored, and I have loved you…’”
Finally, Isaiah reminds us God's draw is profoundly personal. Speaking to fearful exiles, the prophet lists divine titles—Creator, Former, Redeemer—underscoring intimate knowledge of each one of us.
The repeated “Fear not” counters anxieties that block our response: unworthiness, past failures, and future uncertainties. Redemption secures belonging to Him before we act; trials (“waters,” “fires”) won't destroy us because He's present. The climax, “precious,” “honored,” “I love you,” reveals God’s motivation: pure love.
Your awakening stirrings are customized: a verse addressing your exact struggle, a dream or conversation echoing your needs. As in Mary's resurrection encounter (John 20:11-18), grief blinded her until Jesus spoke her name, or in Samuel's childhood call (1 Samuel 3), recognition ignites when it’s personalized.
In our impersonal digital age, this promise anchors you deeply. You're not anonymous to God; the draw affirms, “I see you; I want you, come closer.”
Saying Yes to the Awakening
As we've been immersed in James' promise of reciprocity, the Song of Songs' romantic renewal, Psalm 42's honest thirst, and Isaiah's named assurance, the overarching message resounds: God is the relentless Initiator. He stirs every hunger, declares every spring, awakens every thirst, and utters every name.
Our privileged role? Offer a continual, humble yes; daily, imperfect, but sincere. Yes in the rush, yes in the dryness, yes through fear. This “yes” opens doors to communion that reshapes everything: peace amid storms, joy in trials, strength for obedience.
As “Drawn Near” continues this January, I hope this foundation propels us forward. Let the quiet (or loud) longings of your heart be celebrated as divine gifts, leading to a year defined not by human striving, but by ever-increasing nearness to our God who pursues us with His eternal love.
He is calling you beloved. Will you arise and come away?
God bless,
