Each new year I have a cluster of friends who choose a word. A word they will focus on for the upcoming year.

I first noticed this trend when I was in the throes of babies by the double. People I admired were choosing words like see, lift, simplify, breathe, accept. I loved their words. I wanted one. But the only word I could think of then was survive. And the drowning, muffled ring of it didn’t set right. So that was that.

Two years later, I considered it again, but my brain had no space for it. It felt like one more thing. As 2015 bobbed in, however, I watched my five children toss balloons and blow streamers, and thought, maybe this is the year.

Maybe I should choose… a word.

My long-time friend and young women’s leader, Cristie, always chooses a word. She is a radiant, happy woman who still drops by with an unexpected gift, cares about staying in touch, and lives a consecrated, joyful life. Twenty years ago, she let me sit on her bed late at night and talk with her (and her husband) about big life decisions, boys, marriage. This year she made a number of darling bracelets for her daughters and friends who chose words.

Just before January she posted her word. It was listen. And with it she posed a question. What will your word be? 

I thought about it for a week. I tried on words others were using. I tried being original. I tried being deep. I tried and tried and tried, but nothing fit or felt right. I needed so many words. Yet no single word seemed to possess in its meaning the salve I searched for.

Even now, it is hard to explain what I lack. Some days I’m convinced I’ve regressed in all things spiritual. In scripture study, temple attendance, patience, self-discipline, unconditional love, capability, energy, and even courage.

The last five years have challenged me to the core. Recent health complications have added a new layer of hard. Failures, day after day, stack up, like a tired burden and I find myself repeating the same old phrases: I need more patience. I need more strength. I need to be more gentle. I need to find more joy. 

So that first Sunday morning in January, after easing into the spray of a hot shower, I suddenly knew what I needed. I knew what my word would be.

It would be Jesus.

The very thought of him changes my heart. Mention him and I know what to do, how to react. His name, all by itself, tells me how I should live, talk, love my children, settle a disagreement, face a new trial.

Jesus is The Word. For me.

Last year I read Lloyd C. Douglas’s book, The Robe. If you haven’t read it yet, give yourself the gift of falling into its story. It is about one man’s quest for truth. Marcellus, the Roman soldier who crucified Christ and won the gamble for Jesus’ robe. After the crucifixion, Marcellus sets out to understand this Galilean and the power tied to his robe. Marcellus’ servant, Demetrius, locked eyes with the Savior the day he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, and was asked,

“Is he crazy? Is he a king?” To which [Demetrius] could only reply, “I don’t know… But he is something more important than a king.” (74).

As I walked the roads of Jerusalem with Marcellus, traveled north with him, camped at the edge of the sea with him, met the Big Fisherman and the other apostles, I felt Christ with me in a most intimate and personal way.

For weeks, Marcellus travels with a man named Justus, a disciple who knew the Lord well. Justus often glances behind him, pauses on the rise of a hill, looks across a crowd, eyes wandering, searching for something. Marcellus notices this and Justus eventually explains what he knows. That Jesus is alive. That he touched him, ate with him, saw him ascend in a cloud of glory. Hard truth for the man who crucified Christ to believe.

“Where Justus?” Marcellus says, “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know my friend. I only know that he is alive – and I am always expecting to see him. Every time a door opens. At every turn of the road. At every street corner. Every hillcrest. Sometimes I feel aware of him, as if he were close by.” Justus smiled faintly, his eyes wet with tears.

“It keeps you honest,” he went on. “You have no temptation to cheat anyone, or lie to anyone, or hurt anyone, when, for all you know, Jesus is standing beside you.” (327)

Always expecting to see him. That is how I feel these days. I don’t want to miss his radiance flaring at my elbow or tingling up my spine. I want him with me.

And that is why Jesus will be my Word for 2015. And maybe every year after.

Thanks to Cristie, I will wear it on my wrist. I will try to live with Him in mind. And if I can enter each day, determined to give what I need, I believe he will return it to me. All that I lack.

“To those who fall, how kind thou art. How good to those who seek.”

– Jesus the Very Thought of Thee, Hymn #141

Maybe in time I will branch out to other words. But for now, Jesus is what I need.

There are so many beautiful words to focus on. Did you choose one this year? If so, what was it and why?