A HOPEFUL HEART â—½ YOU
Things I Know Now That I Didn't at 25
by Christina Oberon
At twenty-five, I thought wisdom would feel like confidence. Like walking into a room knowing exactly who I was, what I wanted, and where I was going. I thought maturity would feel loud and solid, like answers finally settling into place. It turns out, wisdom feels much quieter than that. It feels more like knowing when to leave the room. More like learning how to rest without guilt. More like realizing that not every question needs an immediate answer... or a Google search at 1 a.m.
As I enter another year of life, here are a few things I know now that I didn't at twenty-five. Because I've lived a little longer, made a few more mistakes, and finally learned that I don't actually have to learn everything the hard way!
Growth can feel like a slow process and that's not a problem. Instead of feeling like I've “arrived,” I feel rooted. Like a tree that's stopped trying to grow taller every season and has started growing deeper instead. Depth matters more than speed.
Peace is more valuable than being impressive. At twenty-five, I chased a lot of what looked good from the outside. Now I choose what feels good on the inside. A quiet morning, a steady heart, a life that fits instead of one that performs (more nights in than nights out).
Not every hard thing is a sign I’m doing something wrong. Sometimes difficulty isn't a detour. It's the path. Some of the most formative, sacred work in my life has happened in seasons I would have never chosen for myself, and definitely would not have signed up for voluntarily.
God's faithfulness is usually subtle, not cinematic. I used to expect Him in the big moments like the breakthroughs, the answered prayers, the dramatic turns. Now I recognize Him in the small ones, in timing that makes sense later, in strength I didn't know I had, in grace that meets me where I am instead of where I think I should be (which is usually ten steps ahead).
You don’t outgrow your need for hope, you deepen into it. Hope isn't something you graduate from once life gets stable. It becomes something you hold softly, more intentionally, more reverently as you realize how fragile and beautiful life actually is.
Being soft is not the same as being weak. It takes far more courage to remain open, kind, forgiving, and tender in a world that rewards hardness. Softness is strength with restraint and a surprising amount of bravery.
And finally, you're allowed to change. Who I am now would surprise who I was then, and that feels like a good thing. Growth isn't betrayal. It's faithfulness to the person you're becoming. Someone to be proud of.
I don't necessarily feel more certain about life than I did at twenty-five. But I feel more at peace inside of it. I trust God more. I trust myself more. I trust the process more, even when that process looks like finding myself back in school in my forties, studying toward a career I couldn’t have imagined for myself back then. It turns out, not having it all figured out isn't a failure. It's an invitation to keep becoming, listening, and saying yes to possibilities.
I'm entering this birthday month with the courage to keep walking forward with open hands, wherever God leads next.