Twice a year, I stop to ask God questions about my purpose and my progress. He reminds me of how he designed me and what he has called me to do. Then we examine my priorities and habits together, choosing what to keep, what to add and what to toss out entirely.
In my journal, I list my responsibilities, my big plans, my simple joys, my relationships, my worries, my time-sucking distractions and more. The process is like sorting through a hiking backpack. We dump its contents out on the grass and pick things up one at a time, turning them in our hands as we discuss their value.
Me: “God what do you think about this idea?”
God: “I love that one. Let’s keep it.”
Me: “How about this weekly event?”
God: “No. Not worth your time. Toss it.”
The first time I sorted my overstuffed backpack this way, God surprised me. I came to the clearing like an adult meeting a trail guide. We made piles in the grass of what to leave behind and what to put back into my bag. But, by the time we finished sorting, I was a toddler in my father’s lap. And my father did not put the things back into my backpack. He put them in His.
Me: “What about my worry over my children’s safety and development?”
God: “Hug me. I love you, girl. That one is so important. Let me carry that for you.”
Me: “And what about this desire for approval and that perfectionism?”
God: “Let’s throw them as far as we can into that field!”
Me: “What about my urge to create? And my longing to be known and loved.”
God: “I love this about you! Can you entrust these to me?”
Me: “What about money, God? I feel afraid.”
God: “How about this? I’ll hold your fear and you hold my hand.”
When we stepped back onto the path, hand in hand, I was wearing a toddler backpack and God was wearing an aluminum frame hiking pack full of the things we kept. My burdens were strapped to the top and my finances were hanging from the bottom. I didn’t even carry the water; He had canteens in both holsters.
Now, I interact with this image regularly. Every January and August, I stop and use my journal to dump out my proverbial hiking backpack. And whenever I see something shiny along the path, I don’t pick it up and cram it into my bag. I ask God about new ideas and tasks and worries, then we examine them together.
Try it. Imagine your mountain trail and your shady glen. Open up your journal and dump out ever habit, dream, task and fear that you can think of. Then sort through the pile one at a time, asking your Father questions.
This post is part of the series Journaling to Daydream, Plan and Recenter.
