This Christmas reminds us again that in every season and circumstance, the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:5)
As I looked back through this year’s newsletters, I was reminded that this has not been a year of ease—few ever are. Yet it has been a year of clarity. A year of testing. A year marked by unseen grace and the steady nearness of God. A year of being rooted—deeply, humbly, and hopefully—in the story of Jesus, the very story we celebrate at Christmas. Like Advent itself, our days have been shaped by waiting, watching, and witnessing the quiet work of God in the ordinary.
Winter: The True Story – As the year began and winter settled in, we were reminded that what we do at the Mission is fundamentally different from secular approaches to poverty and homelessness. In a world driven by impersonal numbers and well-funded but fruitless plans, we asked again: What story are we living in?
The world says: You are a statistic. You are broken. You are too far gone. But God’s story declares: You are Mine. You are redeemable. You are loved.
This contrast was vivid during February’s PIT count, when workers walked the streets asking where people slept and how they identified. The surveys collect data, but not dignity. They measure circumstances, not souls. They miss the most important question—the one we ask daily: What is your relationship with God?
Spring: A Different Kind of Hope – As winter gave way to spring, we were reminded again that our hope has never rested in politics or politicians. It rests in a Person—and His name is Jesus.
Once again, Oregon ranked among the worst states in the nation for homelessness. Emergency declarations were extended. Promises renewed. Leaders spoke of spending our way out of crisis, as though money alone could heal what is broken.
But our trust has never been in systems. We rely on God’s provision, made visible through the generosity of His people. And we remain committed to the slow, faithful work of transformation—through the gospel, through discipleship, and through real relationships.
Summer: Faithful Flourishing – When summer arrived and our bread donations suddenly ceased, we could have asked, What are we lacking? Instead, we asked, What has God already given?
The answer surprised us: a program participant with a quiet gift for baking. Out of that hidden grace came loaves—joyfully kneaded, freshly baked, and served each evening as a simple act of dignity and care.
It was a reminder that the Kingdom of God rarely arrives with headlines or fanfare. It comes in the familiar—a stable, a manger, a shared meal. Flourishing may not always look big, but it always looks faithful.
And as summer continued, we were reminded of our freedom—not only the civic freedoms our nation celebrates, but the deeper freedom Christ gives. The kind that breaks chains no legislation can touch. Here at the Mission, men and women are learning to lay down old stories of shame and failure and to embrace a new identity as children of God.
This is the freedom that brings real change: a life no longer enslaved to the past, a soul restored, a person re-rooted in truth and community.
Autumn: Anchored in Christ – As autumn arrived, the noise surrounding homelessness only grew louder. Federal and state governments clashed in philosophy. Ideas competed. Funding shifted. Promises rose and fell.
But here at the Mission, we remained still—not silent, but steadfast. Not swept along by trends, but anchored in Truth.
While others debated policies and pursued grants, we stayed focused on the mission entrusted to us: reaching the lost and gathering the reached. Because we do not rely on government funding, we are free to speak clearly: real transformation is not born of bureaucracy. It is birthed in the presence of Christ—through discipleship, dignity, and the loving work of the local church.
The leaves may fall. The headlines may change. But Christ remains our center. Our anchor. Our peace.
The Light Still Shines – In a chaotic world, Christmas brings us back to this promise: The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
This year, we’ve witnessed the Light break through—quietly, steadily, unmistakably—in countless moments of grace:
* In every person who began to believe they truly matter.
* In every soul who joined a church, found work, or opened the Scriptures for the very first time.
* In every meal served with neighborly hospitality.
* In every friend who gave sacrificially, prayed faithfully, and stood with us in the deep conviction that the gospel truly transforms lives.
The Light has come. It keeps coming. And the darkness cannot overcome it.
Thank you for walking with us this year. Your partnership helps us reflect the light of Christ in real and lasting ways. As we move into 2026, we do so with joy, hope, and deep gratitude—for you, for this work, and for the King born in a manger who reigns forever.