We were having a casual lakeside dinner as the clouds began to darken and the wind to whirl.

My friends and I made our way back to our bungalow as the rain started to fall and the wind bent the trees. We were sleeping a few hundred feet from the shore of the Sea of Galilee, and we would be packing up our bags in the morning to fly home.

I had been praying fervently through our whole trip that God would put vivid images in my mind and heart about the places Jesus walked. In the midst of gaudy church structures and tourist shops, it was hard to truly picture the land as Jesus had known it.

Yet as this storm rolled over the Sea of Galilee, I knew I had to see it with my own eyes. I grabbed my coat and walked to the beach as the waves rose higher and higher. My heart was bursting as I pictured Jesus calming these exact same waves with His soft voice. I felt Peter in my bones as I imagined the horror of stepping out of a boat in these conditions.

I was drawn to my knees, yearning for a faith like Peter’s. For authority like Jesus. (I may have even tried to walk on water – I mean, why not?)

It was in that moment I heard the still small voice in my spirit:

Rachel, you will see even greater things than this.

Over the next year I would see miracles I could hardly count. Sickness healed. Boldness received. Clouds on fire. Chains broken. Freedom found. Reconciliation achieved. In that season of my life, I saw people coming to Jesus in literal masses. His power was so unmatched, it would have been absurd to assume anything was ordinary. My friends and I prayed about everything, there was nothing we didn’t trust Him with. If we didn’t receive, we rushed to the throne to bring Him glory anyway.

That spring, as I prayed where to bring the Kingdom next – I felt a clear word from the Lord to knock on a stranger’s door and pray for healing. He was a friend of a friend dying from ALS and we had never spoken – he did not know me, and he did not know Jesus. I hesitated and let fear slowly gain authority in my life. I was afraid I would offend him or that he would turn me away. Instead of running to the throne for greater faith, I ran away. I chose to be Jonah instead of Joshua.

I hid from the Lord for months, and the stronghold of fear assumed the throne of my heart. That fall, mostly out of guilt, I finally went to pray for him. He denied my request and I prayed with his wife in the other room. He passed away the following summer.

That encounter reordered and distorted my view of God, the world, and myself. Whereas once any earthly roadblock was only language for prayer, now it became central to my acting and thinking. I was so aware of everything working against me, I forgot about the power bestowed in me through the Holy Spirit.

As Bill Johnson says in When Heaven Invades Earth:

Our abundant life is hidden in the Kingdom realm. And only faith can make the withdrawals.

My bank account was still full, I just hadn’t been going to the bank.

As I approach this coming year, there is a Scripture passage I want to pray on my daily journey to the throne. It speaks of the disconnect between our human eyes and our spiritual eyes, a disease all too common in the body. It’s found in 2 Kings 6:8-23. My paraphrase enters the story as a group of men are sent by the king of Aram to kill Elisha the prophet.

When the servant of the man of God (Elisha) got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. ‘Oh, my lord, what shall we do?’ the servant asked.

The servant was seeing with his human eyes the impossibility of their predicament. Elisha responds:

‘Don’t be afraid, those who are with us are more than those who are with them.’

I’m sure his servant wasn’t looking for an inspirational pep talk at this moment. Obviously Elisha’s mathematics were a bit rusty – it was evident the city was surrounded by the enemy and they had very few hands in defense. But Elisha went to the bank and prayed this prayer, the one I desire to cement in my heart in 2015:

‘O Lord, open his eyes so he may see.’

God didn’t miss a beat with His response.

Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

Elisha made a permanent residence at the base of God’s throne, and he was given proper eyes in return. How could he live in fear when he was gazing at the Almighty? How could He doubt God’s wingspan when he was looking right at it? How could he feel outnumbered when he knew angels were not dainty, but terrifying, powerful, and at his beckoning?

So many decisions I’ve made this past year have been rooted in fear. Too many nights lying in bed worrying about what will happen next or how to make things go my way. So many missed opportunities to let God’s glory reign in everyday situations. I don’t want that to be the case in 2015.

Man alive, I want to be brave.

I want to cling to the promise made to me on those distant shores – that I will see greater things than even the gospels recount. And the bravery begins at the base of the throne, with those 7 holy words:

Lord, open my eyes that I may see.