It’s the time of the year when everyone’s claiming a word.
And I–lover of words and growth and claiming something as mine, given to me by God Himself–have always found that to be a sort of exciting way to begin the year.
Grasp tight to a word.
Keep that word in the back of your mind (or the forefront of your mind, depending on the kind of day you are having!).
Let it be the filter through which you see your life.
Let it magnify the sound of God’s voice as He speaks into your circumstances.
Watch what He does with that word.
That simple word.
Watch how it doesn’t have the same meaning at the end of the year as it did when you first claimed it.
Last year surrender seemed to be my word. I didn’t choose it, it just became the word forever repeating itself in my head.
Surrender- the resting, the trusting.
Not surrender in the sense of coming out of battle, hands raised, turning yourself over to the enemy,
but surrender as in wrapping Him like a blanket around yourself and whispering “I trust You.” Letting His holiness and love soothe and comfort and be the thing that pulls you through even the most seemingly hopeless circumstances.
Surrender can feel like giving up or losing or resigning yourself to a less positive fate. And sometimes in this broken world, that’s exactly what it means.
But not when we surrender to our loving Father who is infinitely bigger and more capable of turning “hopeless” situations around than we are.
And this year? I am thinking my word might be light.
It has been the new word in my brain lately. The significance of light coming against darkness. How God is light. Light and love and life- all somehow, magnificently the same thing in the character of our Creator.
It has been seeping into my life for a while now, this word, as evidenced by my blog posts of late.
Light. Pressing in. Gradually.
Not a sudden, dramatic: “Let there be light!”, but a gentle glow, slowly warming its way into my life. Illuminating everything.
Light. Sunbeams stretching and spilling into the darkness.
Dust particles floating in the stretches of light as they reach towards me like arms.
And I close my eyes and pray to understand in a way bigger than my consciousness how this light is the Jesus I ache for so fiercely.
“Then spoke Jesus again to them, saying, ‘I am the light of the world: he that follows me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.'” -John 8:12