Your Journaling Faith Compass
We are standing at the halfway mark.
Behind us are six months of soil, roots, exhaling and stillness. Six months of showing up to the page some days with words pouring out, some days with absolutely nothing but a date and a full stop. Six months of praying prayers we are not entirely sure reached the ceiling yet trusting God even if we are not always sure He heard them.
In front of us are six months of whatever comes next.
Here is your invitation, I’m not sure what is coming next. This is not a crisis, think of this as an opportunity.
I’ve grown so much this past year and I’m sure you have as well. The woman writing this blog post is not the same person that started her faith journey the beginning of the year. She (me) has been through the soil. She (me) has traced her roots. She (me) has exhaled. She (me) has listened. She (me) is different now. So much has changed, working through health problems, expectations, this is the year energy. Now were at that 6 month mark. She (me) does not need another set of goals right now. She (me) needs a compass.
The Difference Between a Map and a Compass
A map tells you exactly where to go. Every single turn. Every landmark. Every estimated arrival time. A map assumes you already know the destination.
A compass simply tells you the direction. North or South. That is all. It does not promise a route. It does not calculate an estimated arrival time. It does not show you the deep valleys or the steep mountains between here and there.
January is for maps. July is for compasses.
Because by July, most of us have completely crumpled the map. The route did not work. The destination shifted. The landmarks we were counting on turned out to be mirages.
That is okay. Because we were never actually supposed to navigate this year with a map. We were supposed to navigate it with a compass. A direction. A single word. A whisper from the God who does not give us the whole route He gives us just enough light for the very next step.
“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.”
Psalm 119:105
A lamp for my feet. Not a stadium floodlight for the horizon. Not a satellite view of the next five years. A lamp. For my feet. Just enough to see the step I am standing on and the step immediately ahead.
That is sufficient. It has always been sufficient.
The Compass Reset
Back in January, you may have set a direction, you might have chosen a word.
I want you to do it again today, differently. Because the woman holding the compass has changed. Open your journal. Answer these three questions. Take your time. Let the still waters do their quiet work.
Question 1 Your Direction
Where do I sense God leading me for the rest of this year?
Not a destination. A direction. Toward rest? Toward courage? Toward profound honesty? Toward community? Toward solitude? Toward forgiveness? Toward something you cannot even name yet, you can feel pulling at the edges of your life? Write whatever comes. One word. One sentence. One feeling. Do not edit it. Do not try to make it sound spiritual. Let it be raw.
My direction for the second half: Asking for help where needed work wise and family wise. I have spent the first half proving I can manage the boards, the budgets The second half needs to be different.
Question 2 Your One Word or even verse
If the second half of this year had a word/verse, what would it be?
This is your compass word. The word you will come back to when the noise gets overwhelmingly loud.
My word for the second half: Need. Not a comfortable word. Not a word I would have chosen in January. It is a word that keeps surfacing in my prayers, my 3am wake up calls. In the three minutes of silence. Need. Permission to need. Permission to say, “I cannot do this alone.” Permission to let someone else set the table.
What is yours? Write it large. Put it where you will actually see it. On the fridge. In your wallet. On the lock screen of your phone.
Question 3 Your One Prayer
Write the one prayer you want to carry into the next six months. Make it a kettle prayer. Make it honest enough to mean. Not a prayer for outcomes. A prayer for becoming.
Mine: “God, teach me to receive.” Five words. I can whisper them while the kettle boils. While I sit in Cape Town traffic. While I lie in the dark and my brain starts its endless list. Five words that redirect everything.
What is yours?
The Welcome Statement
Every month, we close with a welcome. A quiet declaration of who we are becoming. This month, we are welcoming the woman who enters the second half.
Write this in your journal:
“I welcome the second half with open hands and a listening heart.”
Or write your own. Here are a few beautiful ones my readers have shared:
- “I welcome the woman who stops apologising for taking up space.”
- “I welcome the second half where rest is not a reward but a rhythm.”
- “I welcome the woman who is done performing and ready to become.”
The Month in Review
We walked through four weeks of still waters together.
- Week 1: We sat in three minutes of silence and asked God what He has been whispering. We went for a walk without earphones and let what needed to arrive, arrive.
- Week 2: We ran an honest audit. Ten questions, one word each. We checked on the woman behind the schedule.
- Week 3: We looked at the closed doors and asked whether they were protections instead of punishments. We opened our hands and wrote a prayer of surrender.
- Week 4: This week, we set our compass. A direction, a word, a prayer. Not a plan. A posture.
The Sealed Letter
Write yourself a mid-year letter, tuck it away in your journal. Address it to yourself to open on the 31st of December. Write a letter to yourself where you cant wait to meet the version of who you will be in December. You might be surprised.
A Closing Prayer
God, I do not know what the second half holds. I do not know the route. I do not know the landmarks. I do not have a map.
But I have a compass, the compass is pointing toward You.
You are my direction. You are my word. You are my prayer. Not the details of what comes next, but the absolute certainty that You are already in it.
So I walk forward. With my journal in one hand and my compass in the other, the sound of still waters somewhere behind me, reminding me that my soul has been restored.
I am ready for the second half. Not because I am strong. Because You are. Amen.
Looking Ahead
Next month, we enter August: The Quiet Roar. It is Women’s Month, we will celebrate the strength that does not make the stage, the courage that shows up anyway.
With so much grace,
Debbera
