Have you ever chosen a word for the year, only to feel like it didn’t pan out the way you expected? I’ve been there.

For a long time, my word of the year was something to aspire to—a trait to develop or a goal to achieve. I didn’t necessarily ask God for the word, but I brought it to Him afterward, asking for help to make it happen.

The problem? Most years weren’t actually marked by those words. By the end of December, I often felt like I’d missed the mark—or failed entirely.

Until everything shifted.

It was the beginning of what would turn into a four-year in-home separation (a story for another day). I desperately needed something to hold onto—something that would keep me aware of God’s presence in the middle of my daily chaos.

So, instead of choosing a word, I asked Him for one.

The word connect came to mind.

I remember raising an eyebrow. What does that even mean?

But as the year unfolded, I saw it everywhere.
I connected more deeply with God.
I reconnected with old friends.
I found new, healthier communities to connect in.
And I became more aware of the places where I felt disconnection—especially in unsafe relationships.

It wasn’t about striving to “be more connected.”
God was showing me connection—in ways I hadn’t expected.

That year changed so much for me.

For years, I thought “hearing God” meant:

• a booming voice,
  
  

• a rulebook,
  
  

• or a warning about what I was doing wrong.
  
  
  

And when I didn’t hear anything? I assumed something was wrong with me.

But I’ve come to believe that hearing God isn’t about receiving orders.
It’s about recognizing His presence—and discovering His heart.

For me, it often feels more like sensing than hearing.
There’s a quiet clarity that isn’t forced.
Sometimes it comes as a thought, a picture, or an impression that unfolds over time.

When I listen with others, I’ve noticed that God often gives different people pieces of the same picture. Alone, those pieces don’t always make sense—but when shared, they form a clearer whole.

This shift—from performance to presence, from striving to receiving—transformed my relationship with God.

And it changed how I receive my word of the year, too.

Since I stopped choosing a word and started receiving one, God has given me words like:

• beloved
  
  

• strong
  
  

• goodness
  
  

• receive
  
  

• content
  
  

• shalom
  
  

Each time, I thought I knew what the word meant.

Each time, I was wrong—in the best way.

When He gave me strong, I assumed I needed to be strong. But that was the year I walked through divorce—when I felt anything but strong. Yet I experienced God as my strength… my strong tower… when I had no strength of my own.

When He gave me shalom, I thought it just meant peace. But then I read this:

Shalom isn’t just peace—it’s how things were meant to be.

And slowly, that year, I began to see glimpses of what that could look and feel like.

This year’s word?
Adventure.

A few years ago, I would’ve panicked over that one—adventure sounded like adrenaline, risk, and cortisol spikes.

But now? I’m looking forward with hope and curiosity.

What if God has an adventure for me that restores instead of depletes?

Maybe you’ve never asked God for a word.

Maybe you’re not even sure you can hear Him.

I get that.

But what if you could?

One of the most transformational things I’ve learned is this:

“It isn’t discipleship if we aren’t teaching people to hear God.”
— Bob Hamp, Think Differently Academy

Learning to hear God didn’t replace Scripture for me—it made it personal, real, and powerful.

So let me ask:

👉 Have you ever asked God for a word?
👉 Do you believe He wants to speak to you—personally?