file2101257456009This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, ‘We will not walk in it.’” Jeremiah 6:16 (ESV)

Joy. Hope. Dwell. Abide. Sing. Great words. Poetic, filled with life and sunshine. Upbeat.

Reestablish. Not so pretty, is it? Figures.

Last year I took a word for the year. Dwell. I meditated on it all year, let God work it into me, through me. Sort of. I mean, it was a great word, but a word doesn’t fix a year. I had this little word, but no backbone around it. No flesh over it.  Just this one thought, one spark, one little light.

The verse above from Jeremiah–I was reading an article a couple days after Christmas, and I knew that was my verse.  I was at the crossroads.  I needed ancient paths.  The way forward led back.

For a long time I’ve wondered if God truly chose me or if I was a pretender. Am I meant to write words about Him?  Am I meant to sit in His glory, or am I a common vessel for the fire, imagining a false identity?  Would I one day call Lord, Lord and be answered with I don’t know you?  Since I disobey more than obey, strive for self more than Him, let fear choose my path and not His Lamp… easy to doubt. The word last year was dwell, but I feared that instead of dwelling, I was squatting. Not truly an heir or daughter, but a servant stealing land. And one day the landlord would come and throw me out into the abyss. Fear.

This year I’ll share the shift, what it took to convince me I was a daughter–that when I knock, my Father will open the door and smile and know me. That’s a topic for another day. And I know I will doubt again. Satan knows where I am weak, and although I am being diligent with my soul this year, the wounds are still tender. They will take hits. I will take new wounds. Fortunately, now I  know  better how to step off the field and apply a bandage instead of bleeding out. Or I hope I do.

Ancient paths. Crossroads. Old meets new. Old trumps new. And from there came the word for this year: Reestablish. Priestly habits of digging into the Word. Monastic habits of simple living, meditation, focus. Apostolic habits of putting everything toward one goal, bringing light to the darkness.

It’s all there, in history. The paths.  The goals. The means. But I lost the connection, so  the word of the year is Reestablish. Not a beautiful word. But I trust the result will be a beautiful new daughter, light and faithful and strong and able to shine Dad’s glory everywhere she goes.

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