I want to go on a journey with You this year Lord.
And yet, I don’t.
It scares me a little bit. It scares me a lot. It fills me
with questions.
Where will we go? How will we get there? What will we do? What
will it take? Will it hurt? Will I suffer? What will I lose? What will I gain?
What will be revealed about me? Will the world accept it? Will I care? How will
it affect my family? How will it affect my marriage? How will it affect me?
Me.
Me.
Me.
I’m so sick of me.
So let’s go, God.
You and me.
We.
Us.
You’re ready, and I’m willing. Help me lose the me, and let’s go on a journey together this
year. Let’s see new places. Meet new people. Learn something. Let go of
something. Trust more. Worry less. Release the me. Empower the us.
You’re a big God, and You’re wild. It’s a little
intimidating. It’s a lot exciting. But you say I can know You, and I believe it.
I’ve seen a little of You. I’ve seen You come near. I’ve seen You come through.
I’ve seen You show up. I’ve learned to recognize You in small things and in big
things. And I want more. Until the day I die and beyond, I don’t ever want to
stop knowing You more.
I am one woman, but I’m willing. I want to go on a journey
with You this year Lord, even though it scares me a little bit. To be honest,
every year has been a journey. It’s not like I’ve just now decided to hop on
the bus. I’ve been riding it this whole time. My whole life.
But sometimes I thought I was driving. Sometimes I thought
someone else was. Sometimes I sat in the back row, dragging my feet, looking
behind me. Sometimes I sat in the middle, status quo – surrounded by people but
stuck in myself.
I let other people tell me where to sit.
I pushed my way to the seat I thought I wanted.
But that one right there, that seat right next to You. I can
see it now. It’s got my name on it. It’s right up front. It’s right next to
You. Right next to the Driver.
So let’s go on a journey together this year God. And I’ll
sit right next to You as You drive. I’ll try not to take the wheel – I don’t
really like to drive anyway. I’ll keep my foot off the brake – You know what
You’re doing. I’ll ride hand in hand with you, my head on Your shoulder. You’ll
keep my eyes pointed forward, not behind.
Sometimes we’ll take in the sights, enjoying the sunsets
while meandering leisurely, spending time together. Sometimes You’ll say, “Trust
Me” and You’ll drive through the canyons and over dangerous precipices. Maybe
You’ll reach over and turn my face to my eyes are on only You. “Look at ME.”
Maybe You’ll let me see so I can recognize what You’ve brought us through.
We’ll stop and let people on and off. In and out. But the
best parts will be when You pull the E-brake and we screech to a halt. You’ll
swing the door handle to open the doors wide and out we will go, together. You’ll
say, “That one!” and “Help him!” or “Love her!” And we will.
Together.
