A New Word for a New Year

It’s the start of a new year, when many of us share a word that brings clarity or a specific challenge to the next 12 months of our lives. I’ve mentioned before that for years I delayed jumping on the ‘word for the year’ bandwagon–until 3 years ago, when I gave in, hauled myself up on that rickety ride, and never looked back.

I don’t know about you but my process for choosing a word begins in October. Usually, 4-5 ideas float around in my head for a few weeks. As I pray and process, one word slowly fades away, then another, and so on, until I’m left with one. This year, “dare” seemed to linger as the others bid farewell.

When ‘dare’ comes to mind, I think of the beach, a place I’ve loved since I was a kid. Maybe because I’m a big fan of water and big skies and simple living.

Fresh air? Bring it.

Outside all day? Yes, please.

Sunsets over the Gulf? Erryday.

Or maybe I love the beach because it gave me such a deep sense of belonging–and still does. Regardless of my weight, abilities, social status, or history, the coastline will never judge or exclude or ignore me–and that feels like a rare space these days.

Growing up in central Florida allowed me ample opportunities to experience this sense of belonging, stretched across sky and sand and salt water. The constellation of freckles sprinkled over my nose and the blonde streaks in my unruly brown mane gave evidence to the hours spent ducking beneath the waves and riding them back to shore. I couldn’t get enough.

I miss those carefree days of sunscreen and seagulls and seashells.

I miss the excitement of leaving the familiar shore, that last look back to catch a glimpse of my family’s beach blanket before turning to face the water.

I miss the wild sprint through the thick, coarse sand.

I miss the fearless plunge into the waves, without worry of jellyfish, nipping minnows, or the undertow.   

The years have passed since those childhood beach days and I’ve grown a bit wiser, a little less excited to run reckless into the mysterious water. I’ve learned that it’s important to consider the potential dangers beyond the shore. To tentatively move toward the lesser known. (A jellyfish sting and a near drowning will do that.)

It’s necessary to charge into the waves, to boldly leave the comfort of land, when God leads us to do that. But sometimes He leads us to camp out in the sand. Sometimes the choice that requires the most faith is to stay on shore (when we’d rather leave) and open our eyes to the adventures around us, even when they feel mundane.

Sometimes we mistake an exciting invitation for the leading of God. We enthusiastically shake hands with a human, sign on the dotted line, toss the pen, and race toward the waves while ignoring the whispers of the Divine. In our discontent, we foolishly believe that adventure can only be found ‘out there.’

But sometimes the waves aren’t meant for us. We must accept that and trust that the God who calls us out to the water is the same God who might also ask us to remain on shore.

So, this year, I’m daring to go and stay. I’m daring to let go of the certainty of the shore, when I’m certain of God’s direction toward deeper water. And I’m daring to stay in the sand, knowing that beauty and adventure live there, too.

Sometimes daring requires us to respond to an opportunity with a gracious ‘no.’

Sometimes daring requires us to hug the shoreline, to engage with those under the umbrellas, to help build sandcastles, to serve and play contentedly right where we are.

And sometimes daring requires us to leave the familiar, to venture beyond what we thought we knew–what we thought we wanted.  

Ironically (providentially?), I chose this word before I was asked to consider a few opportunities. These days, I’m not sure whether to head into the water or remain on shore. Regardless, faith is required.

Whether sand or waves, daring requires us to move through our fears and trust that a loving God will lead us to meaningful endeavors that allow our gifts and passions to serve the world and bring Him glory.

Both have value. Both have risks.

With the start of a new year, I’m daring to be content to work in the familiar sand (loving my family & community, practicing forgiveness, and faithfully writing) while also daring to consider unfamiliar waters (possible job opportunities and a book proposal), as the Divine so lovingly leads me.  

I wonder, how is God leading you to ‘dare’ in 2019? Where do you need to take a step of faith? Toward the salty waves? To remain on shore and discover the adventures around you? Maybe some time in both?