“I know that you aren’t fearless, but the fact that you routinely set your sights on things that are big and a little bit outlandish, even when they scare you, is one of the things I love most about you. It’s one of the traits that I’m most proud of you for.”
So said my mother last week. It may have been the very best compliment I’ve received from anyone, ever.
Bravery is so hard. It gets even harder when we give fear more power in our lives than we should. Fear is one of those things that multiplies when left alone in the dark, and takes root much more broadly than it first appears. Kind of like mint. Mint is delicious, and I love having fresh mint on hand for things, but if you put it in the ground, you had better be vigilant about making sure that sucker doesn’t spread. It has these creeper vines that just move outward from where it’s planted, and when you see those vines spreading, you can bet they’ve already put down roots to wherever they’ve gone. And from there it keeps getting bigger, and taking over more space and sending out even more vines that set down roots until every available amount of space is covered – both above and below ground.
I may have been naive in my assumption, but I never thought of myself as a fearful person. Sure, social interaction when I don’t know at least 3 people in the room freaked me out, public speaking, anything where people can weigh in on my performance and by default my ability, singing the melody freaked me out if I’m flying solo, having too many people look at me, being alone in the dark, being vulnerable and having my attempts at connection rejected, failure in general, letting down the people I care about, giving bad advice…and probably a good amount more.
I think for a long time I avoided as many of the above situations as humanly possible, I kept the “mint” as contained as I thought I could, but I missed out on the fact that there was an entire network system under the surface that was alive and well. I am part of a generation that often wears anxiety disorders and insecurity like a badge of honor, and it becomes so much easier to write it off as normal, rather than address the fact that it may not be healthy. I was plenty brave in the things I was willing to let Jesus into, but kept a tight grip on the parts I’d rather not deal with. It became something I didn’t even need to pray about really, unless I was in the thick of an extremely difficult situation, because it was my normal. Normal and healthy are not interchangeable. Normalcy is not the same thing as wholeness. And I wonder if, like me, many Christians settle for their “normal” rather than running to Jesus to be made whole.
If that is the case, I have news for you friends: Jesus doesn’t call us to things that don’t scare us. It’s just not the way He operates. Frankly, it should scare us, because we can’t do it properly when we do it by ourselves, and relinquishing control is always a scary thing.
I want a life that is so much bigger than just me, but that won’t happen if I keep letting my fear convince me that Jesus smaller than He is. When has He ever cut and run, leaving me to deal with it myself? Never. When has He ever let a situation break me? Never. When has He ever asked me to let go of something that didn’t ultimately benefit me? Never.
So why do I instinctively respond as if He has? Why do I resort to such a pitiful attempt at self-protection that all I end up doing is hiding from things that I know I’ve been called to do? I want to live bravely, and be known as one who did things that scared her, even if they sometimes crashed and burned along the way. I want to respond with trust in the fact that Jesus routinely calls us out on the water, even though it’s weird, hard, scary and uncomfortable when we are in the thick of it.
Lord, make me braver than I feel right now. Even if the fear never fully dissipates, let me trust You enough to step out of the boat anyway. I trade my normal for your wholeness. Call me to scary things, and teach me to respond with trust before I have a chance to freak out about the details. Put me in situations where I have to talk about what you’re doing, even though I can’t fully explain it or my role in it. Make this life about so much more than just me, draw me deeper and reveal more of yourself to me. Let me be overwhelmed with thankfulness, quick to repent, quick to forgive and firm in my faith in you.
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