When God Picks Your Word for the Year.

If you’ve hung around these parts long enough then you likely know I kick off every new year by picking a word. A word to blanket the year. A word for pressing into. A word that, fingers crossed, will come to serve as a meaningful theme for life over the next 365 days.

Some years I choose the word. Some years the word chooses me.

In 2021, the word I chose was “prepared.” I thought prepared was a good word to get me to a level of organization I hadn’t yet seen. I pictured myself being ahead of schedule, wrapping up my Christmas shopping in July, and scheduling things months in advance. That was the kind of “prepared” I wanted to have more of in my life.

In actuality, 2021 felt like the most frazzled year of them all. I barely prepped for anything. I was behind on most things. I missed important dates. If I did get ahead, the moment was fleeting, quickly replaced by something else that came rushing at me with even more urgency.

2021 was a year we spent trying to figure out a slew of medical mysteries that had us admit Novalee to the hospital twice. It was a year I would have told you I wasn’t “prepared” for it. I’d later say I picked the wrong word because I wanted to be prepared in the “organized, Home Edit sense.” I didn’t want preparation if it meant it would be complicated. Couldn’t God see that?

In 2022, I chose a different word. An easy word. A word that, no matter what, could never test me or try me. The word was “vegetable.” I imagined myself simmering, sauteeing, and cooking my way through the year. I envisioned plates of green and red, exotic dishes, and new cooking adventures. Yes, 2022 held that for me, and it was a great word, but I think vegetable became a word I learned on a much deeper level.

In 2022, I learned how to slow down the pace. I learned how to forgive myself and be gentler. I learned how to be rooted in what mattered most to me. I learned that the best things take time to grow.

On the eve of 2023, I sat down with my journal and Bible and prepared to choose a word. I prayed first, as I sometimes do when I am feeling okay to release the grip I have on my obsession for control. And at that moment, I felt God nudge me toward a specific chapter in the Bible.

Just a sidenote about nudges: I believe in them. I believe God speaks through his Word. But I also think we must test everything. Sometimes I’ll think I hear something and move to that spot in the Bible, only to find that spot in the Bible doesn’t exist (please don’t tell me I’m the only one). I keep every word I hear with open hands until I feel confirmation in my spirit.

As I started to read, a single word jumped out at me. Not once or twice. But over and over again. It was undeniable; this was the word for 2023.

And let me just tell you, this word was the exact opposite of any word I would have readily chosen for myself. If I’m being honest, I hated the word instantly. For a number of reasons. The word itself makes my skin itch. The word bothers me because it ultimately means I didn’t have full control. The word is not one I would choose for myself. It feels like a word I, ten years ago, would have chosen. I don’t know why that bothers me so much…

I immediately felt a strong aversion to the word because the word didn’t hold meaning yet. It isn’t a straightforward word or a word I could tell you makes sense to me right now. But I also can’t deny the peace that comes from knowing this is the word and that God is going to help me understand, day by day and month by month.

This likely feels like a teaser because I haven’t said the word, and I’m not planning to. So why share, Hannah? Well, because the lesson is still the same: it’s okay if you have no idea what God is going to do next with you.

It’s okay if you felt a word spring up in your heart at the start of this new year and yet the word makes no sense to you. Or you don’t like the word. Or, try as you might, no clear direction seems to be coming to you. It’s okay if you feel as if you entered into the new year with empty hands. 

Sometimes we enter into a new year, and fate seems so clear. We create intentional goals. We map the way. We plan our lives down to the minutiae so that no surprises can enter.

There’s nothing wrong with plans or goals. I think ambition can be beautiful. But I’ve also known, from personal experience, how easy it is to walk into a new year with just our own ambitions. I know what it looks like to set goals and send them, like a flighty email, over to God’s inbox to ensure he gets with the program. I know it’s entirely possible to make all our own plans, not even thinking of what God wants to do with us. We take up all the space with our dreams, goals, and plans and assign God to the margins. 

We take the God who is mightier and more extensive than our wildest of thoughts, and we try to whittle him down to a task manager, to an assistant whose only job is to execute the neverending demands we’ve stacked onto the task list. This isn’t God’s role. 

And then there are those sacred years where we enter with our arms raised, saying, “I don’t know. I don’t have a clue where I’m going.” Sometimes we choose this surrender and sometimes the year before throws us around so good that we’re too tired to do anything but surrender.

We enter in– sort of hungry, sort of hopeful, and sort of done with the ways we did things in the past.

I think these kinds of years can be the best years because it means we have to lean on God for the turn-by-turn directions. It means we have to follow closely. It means we have to borrow strength like a library book. It means there is no other way. 

That’s how I feel right now. I have my plans, and things I think will happen this year but, I can only imagine what God wants to do. I’m open to it. No clenched fists here. I’m leaning all the way in.

I’d love to hear from you:

In moving my blog to a newer platform, I sadly had to let go of the thousands of comments and conversations that came from readers over the last 10+ years. This grieves me deeply but I know there will new conversations, fresh words of wisdom, and opportunities to create close community once again. I’d love to hear from you in the comments section. I’ll be reading + replying on a regular basis.