This is my year to be fearless.
Strong, courageous, bold, intentional. Oh, you’re going to hear a roar from the north country and the song I’m singing is freedom.
I’ve worked and prayed and cried and scrabbled and confessed and repented my way out of being a people-pleasing approval addict, all glory to the Ancient of Days, these past three years. Every regret, almost every sin or wrong of my life has its roots in that stronghold. Now this year, that stronghold will be ground into a powder. Now, my identity firmly fixed in God alone, secure, my voice is getting stronger, my heart is beating faster, my thumbs are pricking with Holy Spirit awareness that this is the time, the time to leap into the unknown, leaving all fear behind me.
God has not given me a spirit of fear. No, this spirit is of love, power and a strong mind.
So this is my year to be brave.
My year to say yes to all that He asks of me. To love fearlessly. To lavish grace without expectation. To speak the truth even if my voice shakes. To step out of the boat, in the middle of the storm, onto rough waters, and know that I will stand, eyes fixed on the author and perfect of my faith. To mother these beautiful tinies out of my best hopes instead of my worst fears. To confront evil, to speak out for my sisters that are silenced, to work and rabble-rouse, to piss a few people off and sing freedom to the rest, to give from everything that I have. This is my year for walls-crumbling-down, for wholehearted living, for art and yes and mess and doing it scared. If we’re all crowded on the wall, waiting for something to change, I’ll be the first one to jump, you can watch me go.
This is my year for guts.
I’m going to create redemptive art and send it out into the world. I won’t be constructing my life to live without risk, to mitigate any chance of failure.
No, I’m charging out even if the critics are waiting. Even if I’m wrong, darling, I’m going to try anyway.
Watch me fly.