A New Year’s Eve Doxology

A New Year’s Doxology

As one year closes and another begins, many of us instinctively look back. We remember moments of joy and awe—times when God’s goodness felt obvious and near. We also remember long stretches of ordinary days, and perhaps seasons that were heavy, confusing, or dark. Standing at the threshold of a new year invites reflection, but more than that, it invites doxology—praise that rises not because life was perfect, but because God has been faithful.

The apostle Paul ends Romans 11 with words that feel especially fitting at the close of a year:

“Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
… For from him and through him and for him are all things.
To him be the glory forever! Amen.” (Romans 11:33, 36)

There are moments in life when doxology seems to come easily. Quiet mornings. Time away. Beautiful scenery. Laughter around a table. Holding a newborn. Watching the sun set or the fire glow. In those moments, praise feels natural—almost unavoidable. Our hearts sing because everything slows down enough for us to notice God’s goodness.

But those moments don’t last forever.

Before long, we return to the ordinary rhythms of life. Alarms go off early. Schedules fill up. To-do lists grow longer. Days blur together. Life isn’t necessarily bad—it’s just busy, routine, and relentlessly normal. And somewhere along the way, doxology gets pushed to the sidelines, waiting for another “big” moment to be sung again.

And then there are the darker days.

It doesn’t take long to move from joy to sorrow, from celebration to concern, from laughter to tears. Life has a way of reminding us how fragile it is. Some of us live with grief, anxiety, chronic pain, depression, or ongoing uncertainty. Some carry worries about health, finances, relationships, or the future. In those moments, doxology can feel foreign. How do you sing praise in the dark?

And yet—Paul does.

Again and again, Paul breaks into praise in places where it seems least expected. Prison. Suffering. Uncertainty. Loss. Somehow, he keeps singing. Not because life is easy, but because Paul knows something deeper: God is present and active in every season—light, ordinary, and dark.

Paul doesn’t pretend to understand everything God is doing. In fact, he says the opposite. God’s wisdom is too deep to measure. His paths can’t be traced. His judgments can’t be fully understood. But what Paul does know is this:

• God loves us more than we can imagine—so much that He gave His own Son for us.

• God knows exactly what He is doing, even when we don’t.

• God has the power to accomplish His good and saving purposes.

That’s why Paul can say, “From him and through him and for him are all things.”

Everything comes from God. He is the Creator and the source of all life.
Everything is sustained through God. He gives strength, provision, and breath day by day.
Everything is moving toward God. Our lives, this world, and history itself are being carried toward His promised redemption.

When we look back on the year through that lens, doxology begins to make sense again.

We praise God not only for the mountaintop moments, but also for the ordinary days where He quietly worked through our routines. We praise Him even for the dark seasons—not because they were easy, but because He was present, faithful, and saving in ways we may not yet fully see.

As we step into a new year, perhaps the invitation before us is simple:
Let’s sing doxology more often.

Let’s sing when life is bright.
Let’s sing when life feels routine.
Let’s even carry our song into the valleys.

Because in every moment—past, present, and future—God is at work.
And to Him be the glory forever. Amen.