Sixty Days, All In

G=Goals O=Outlook A=Authentic T=Truth (#coateisaGOAT) 

Sweet friend, last week I introduced you to the book I’ve been sitting with lately — If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat by John Ortberg— and this week, I kept reading. And y’all… something in these chapters stopped me right in my tracks.

The sixty-day (Bob) prayer challenge.

Now, I’ll be honest with you. My first reaction wasn’t some big, bold, faith-filled yes. It was more like a long pause. A deep breath. And then quietly, that question the chapter basically dares you to ask:

What’s the worst that can happen?

And honestly? I couldn’t argue with that.

Because if I truly believe God is who He says He is… if I truly believe He is still guiding, still nudging, still opening doors, still working in ways I cannot always see… then why wouldn’t I lean into that fully? Why wouldn’t I pray more intentionally? Why wouldn’t I seek alignment with His plans for my life instead of just chasing what feels safe or comfortable or urgent in the moment?

So here I am, telling you I want to commit to this. Not just think about it. Not just admire the idea of it. Actually commit.

Because I do believe extraordinary things happen when we stop sitting safely in the boat watching the waves and finally decide to step out onto the water. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it stretches us. Even when every overthinking, anxiety-adjacent part of our brain is telling us to stay right where we are.

And sweet friend, if you know me at all — you know overthinking is my thing.

My brain can take something from zero to urgent in about thirty seconds flat, and half the time that urgency isn’t wisdom. It’s fear wearing a very convincing costume. It’s anxiety masquerading as discernment. It’s me trying to solve something, control something, or rush toward an answer before I’ve actually slowed down enough to ask the Lord what He would have me do.

That’s what I’m working on in this season. Learning to pause long enough to hear the difference between God’s voice and my own noise. Because I don’t want to keep making decisions from a place of fear or panic or emotional urgency. I want to get still enough to actually discern where He is pointing me.

And I think that’s really what this challenge is becoming for me.

It’s not just prayer as a habit — although Lord knows I need more discipline and consistency in my routines. It’s deeper than that. It’s about learning to recognize the Godwinks. The quiet nudges. The moments where, if I would just stop white-knuckling my own plans long enough, I might actually see where He has been leading me all along.

Because I truly believe He is always working. Always. Even in the uncomfortable. Even in the mysterious. Even in the waiting.

And lately, another word keeps finding me everywhere I turn: stewardship.

In scripture. In conversations. In those quiet morning moments with my coffee where conviction has a way of just settling in whether you invited it or not.

The question I keep hearing is this: Why would the Lord trust me with more if I’m not being faithful with what He has already given me?

Whew.

That one landed heavy, y’all.

Because stewardship isn’t just about money. It’s about our time, our gifts, our opportunities, our relationships, our health, our calling — the blessings He has already placed right in our hands. And I’ve been asking myself some hard questions lately.

Am I taking care of what He has already entrusted to me? Am I using the gifts He has already given me? Or am I burying some of those talents out of fear, distraction, or just staying comfortable enough that I never fully step into what He may actually be calling me toward?

And sweet friend, I got a very real, very humbling reminder of this recently — because I tweaked my back playing with my grandbaby. Just bouncing and holding and loving on that precious little one, and my body said NOPE. And honestly? It was a reality check I didn’t know I needed. Because how am I going to show up fully — for the people I love, for the calling He has for me, for the life I want to live — if I’m not taking care of this body He gave me? My health and my fitness routine can no longer be the things I’ll get to eventually. They have to take a front seat. That’s stewardship, too. Maybe one of the most personal kinds.

That parable keeps coming back to me. Because squandering our gifts doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it just looks like hesitation. Overthinking. Staying busy. Staying distracted. Staying just comfortable enough that we never have to be brave. And sometimes it looks like neglecting the very body you’ve been given to do this life in.

And sweet friend, I don’t want to live like that anymore.

I don’t want to look back one day and realize the Lord was practically hollering at me, waving giant signs right in front of my face, and I was too stubborn or too fearful or too comfortable to listen. Because if I’m being really honest with myself — there have already been seasons like that. And I’m grateful for grace. But I don’t want to keep needing it for the same lesson.

I want to notice the Godwinks. I want to pay attention to the nudges. I want to slow down enough to discern where He is pointing my life instead of forcing my own timeline onto everything.

And yes, I know it will stretch me. I know it may be uncomfortable. But I also know this:

The miracle is never going to happen by staying safely in the boat.

So this week, I’m committing to being intentional. Intentional with prayer. Intentional with stewardship. Intentional with my health. Intentional with listening. Intentional with surrender.

And maybe that’s something your heart needs too right now.

If any of this stirs something in you, look into the sixty-day (Bob) prayer challenge from If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat. Maybe we do this together. Maybe we stop mistaking anxiety for discernment. Maybe we stop letting fear make our decisions. Maybe we trust that even when the water feels uncertain, the Lord is already there.

And maybe… just maybe… it’s time to get out of the boat.

Hope you have a beautiful week, sweet friend.