Pause (Selah)

how I'm walking into this year

Voices join the countdown chorus. 10 - 9 - 8 . . . . all the way down to 1 and a resounding, Happy New Year! Glasses filled with happy bubbles clink together, a hopeful toast to what will be. Confetti falls like pieces clipped from the rainbow, creating a mosaic collage on the ground below, a frivolous and magical sort of mood board.

We close the door on a year that has passed, known and familiar, and push open the door of a year yet to be lived and experienced, uncertain and mysterious.

Year after year I find myself lingering in this vestibule between what was and what will be, in between last year’s door, now pulled shut behind me, and the new year’s door in front of me, cracked open and waiting for me to walk through.

And in the lingering I close my eyes.

I think about all I’ve lived through — grateful . . .

always, for all the little joys and big wins,

sometimes reluctantly so, for lessons learned and growth painfully gained,

even for the regrets and losses that are making me and forming me and pushing me into the arms of Grace.

I think about what might be on the other side of the cracked-open door in front of me — more joys and wins and regrets and losses and lessons and growth — but the “what ifs” and the “could bes” bounce off like unanswered echos in the cavernous unknown.

Rather than aimlessly wandering into the future, I want to meet what will be with intention, with a compass to guide me as I discern God’s invitations and notice his presence with me in all things. For the past several years, I’ve asked God to draw my attention to a word for that year. That word then serves as a theme that I carry with me and a filter that helps me purposefully process all that I’ll encounter on the veiled path ahead.

This year as I prayed and held out my hands, I’ve been reminded of a word that has surfaced repeatedly for me in various ways over the last few months.

Selah.

Occurring 74 times in Scripture, primarily in the Psalms and a particularly poetic portion of Habakkuk, this word holds a bit of mystery as it evades a direct and literal translation. Generally, it serves as a pause, an interlude, a purposeful interruption within the flow of a poem or song that provides the worshipers an opportunity to ponder, to reflect, to meditate on what has been sung or spoken.

Selah.

Recently I’ve read Psalm 46 (where it appears three times) at the conclusion of a retreat or as a point of reflection within a spiritual direction session. I have come to love the way The Passion Translation interprets this word: Pause in his presence.

What a lovely invitation.

What a much-needed reminder to my soul that regardless of the chaos and seeming instability of all that assaults my spirit and senses, God is worthy of my attention and focus, and when I fix my gaze on him, I can breathe easy.

Selah.

How many times have I glossed over this word? How often have I not bothered to even speak it out loud as I’ve recited or read the portions of Scripture where it appears? Why do I so conveniently dismiss it?

Perhaps it has seemed too gauzy, unimportant, even unnecessary. Pausing can often feel that way when I am so accustomed to inhaling and exhaling the air of hurry and productivity and busyness.

But there it is. I can’t escape it.

Selah.

Saying it out loud even sounds like an exhale, breath escaping, shoulders relaxing, peace settling.

Selah.

Pause in God’s presence and in the presence of his image-bearers that have been placed in my life.

Soak the moments in.

Resist rushing to the next thing.

Let the deepening breath bring oxygen to blood and life to dry bones.

I don’t know what lies ahead, but I walk with a God who hems me in behind and before, who beckons me to follow him with all that I have and all that I am, and who invites me to pause in his presence as together we push open the door and step into 2026.

Do you have a word for this year? If so, please share it in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you!

Until next time,

Kerry