Refreshing Hearts One Sentence At A Time
I’ve said it before, but I preface this post with the fact that I have difficulty writing about a subject until I feel as if I’ve gotten some kind of grip on the thing. But two nights ago after several ounces of shed tears I’m still no closer to understanding or encompassing this new front of adversity which lurks toward me in the shadows. So come with me, won’t you, for at least a few minutes anyway, and think through some challenging reflections which have been surveying me from across the bathroom mirror.
If you had to make a decision knowing full well the possible tragic outcomes, would you agree to take the journey?
The question is dramatic, to be sure, but so is my ridiculous story. If history serves me right, it seems like if something can go awry when I’m around, it can. Who was stepped on while marching across a football field, saxophone flying through the air, plunging to my elbows while a nearby giant Hispanic apologized? This girl. Who tripped down the band hall stairs, backpack and books sprawling, while a small audience clapped? This girl. Who drove across Texas, Colorado, and Wyoming and back in the two worst blizzards those states have ever seen? This girl. Who had a scratch, which bled out, leading to a careflight, an emergency C-Section, six doctors operating a white board and critical survey, and a blood transfusion to save her life during pregnancy? This girl.
Let’s stop and back up on that last one.
If you pause and pick up your least favorite moment in life thus far, plus your worst phobia, and then mix them together, how does that feel? Now blend in a paper cut. Slowly stir in some lemon juice. Yes. Your stomach kind of churns, right, and you feel a bit dubious and irrational? Yes.
These are just the frosting of the cake that was one of the most significant trials of my life. And this trial, this feeling, this experience, this memory, all involve people.
What am I trying to say?
The other night I was thinking about children, siblings, and how my little girl is three years old in five days. I want her to have sisters. Sure, whatever, yeah, I want her to have “siblings” because I don’t get to determine if there is a brother in the mix. I don’t want her to be alone. Does God want her to be alone? “Never will I leave you,” He says, “Never will I forsake you.”
As long as I can remember I just assumed I would have possibly three children. I had two sisters, my mom had two sisters, my grandmother had several more than that I think…. I knew a few “only” children, but could count them on one hand.
As a momma who has been blessed to know several groups of wonderful women, I know quite a few women who have had trouble getting pregnant, having children, or going through pregnancy. The topic was one I did not consider to be an issue, even when my middle sister had complications; I just thought the problems had to do with her thinness (that I am jealous of and therefore placed the blame). Turns out I have my own special idiosyncrasies to outwit. These quirks, a bleeding disorder and pre-eclampsia, are my own battle to fight. My husband confirms that he will fight with me, but let’s face it, the battle ground is my own flesh and blood.
I think I’m tiptoeing around what I’m trying to discuss. Charlie asked me what was wrong the other night and he eventually came to name the topic of “children,” as I lay there quiet, unable to form the right words.
“I’m scared of the future.”
“I’m scared of having a baby.”
“I’m scared for Madeleine.”
“I feel inadequate.”
“I don’t want to torture myself again.”
“If I died this place would be a complete disaster and I don’t want Madeleine to grow up in a pigsty.”
There are more feelings, thoughts, issues, and concerns than I can label in any few sentences. They are a myriad of hopes, fears, anxieties, shadowed thoughts, and anger. Above all the inner turmoil is a working, growing knowledge of God’s power, which often sheds light on the struggle and contains the clamor. An easy reference to the knowledge and wisdom that God is bigger than fear, than anxiety, shadowed thoughts, anger, and all hope, fiction or non, rests within my heart and iPhone. But a real factor is that I nearly died. The facts are that the doctors lectured me, the helicopter flew me, the doctor cut me open, the anesthesiologist held my hand, and my insides tremble to remember the blue sheet, the pain, oh the pain, and the very long, hard recovery.
At this point we pause. Can you relate? I hope your story is not scary rides in a helicopter through the black night, blurry faces, missing hours, or dim hallways, but I can share stories for so many who have faced an equivalent amount of distress, apprehension, loss, separation, agony, and heartache.
We are a broken people.
“Wonderful, merciful Savior
Precious Redeemer and Friend
Who would have thought that a Lamb
Could rescue the souls of men
Oh, you rescue the souls of men
Counselor, Comforter, Keeper
Spirit we long to embrace
You offer hope when our hearts have
Hopelessly lost the way
Oh, we hopelessly lost the way
You are the One that we praise
You are the One we adore
You give the healing and grace
Our hearts always hunger for
Oh, our hearts always hunger for
Almighty, infinite Father
Faithfully loving Your own
Here in our weakness You find us
Falling before Your throne
Oh, we're falling before Your throne.”
Wonderful, Merciful Savior by Phillips, Craig and Dean
As each day dawns my daughter is taller, my hands are a little more weathered, and some sort of invisible deadline approaches. He’s wearing a black suit, carrying Jack Sparrow’s compass and a dagger in his left breast pocket. And he whistles a tune very much like a nursery rhyme, but the song is nearly indiscernible. His lips turn up in a smirk, while his green eyes convey concern and revelation.
After experiencing the whole ordeal, I know much more about my health, hospital procedure, the limits of humans, and babies. I know how to take better care of myself, eat healthier, and am in a good exercise routine. My life is much different than before. The assumption can be made that if or when the situation presents itself I could handle the thing much better this time around; instead of letting it sweep me off my feet I could tell the situation to sit down, shut up, and let me cook dinner because we’re having broccoli tonight so just deal with that fact and set the table. But those thoughts come to me when I’m brave or have had a lot of caffeine. As I wash my hair in the shower, or gasp for breath during the cardio portion in the sand pit at the park, that’s when I remember the puffy feet, the ambling limp, and the hunger pains.
You know, people either lecture or love. Sometimes I tell myself to buck up and deal, but sometimes I see that deadline walking around the apartment complex, picking up a stray piece of trash, and I close the curtain before he sees that I’m home. He’s not just there to discuss children, but also the stack of borrowed books on my bedside table, the laundry situation, the lady who digs through the dumpster, and if I’m going to live in this apartment complex in this town for much longer.
If you had to make a decision knowing full well the possible tragic outcomes, would you agree to take the journey?
What if that house you are about to purchase has termites? What if the car doesn’t start tomorrow? What if you fall down the stairs and no one is there to help? What if your employers no longer see the value in your work? What if all the politicians go crazy? What if the plans fall apart? What if that deadline knocks at the door and he calls out your name?
I want to say the answer is as easy as believing on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved.
I want to say the Lord’s presence will go with you and give you rest.
I want to say that God will give you hope.
I want to say that you don’t need to let your heart be troubled.
And the utter, plain, astounding truth is this: these statements are all true. Even when I crumble, my Lord is near me all the time. The plans aren’t always simple, but I’m not alone, and I can’t let that deadline determine my faith.
“Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved—you and your household.”
“The LORD replied, ‘My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.’”
“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.”
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God.”
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
Sometimes when God saves us, he takes us home. Oftentimes he answers in a way we do not expect. Usually he will challenge us to grow our minds, hearts, and spirits closer to his presence. Always he is with us, to the end of the age.
So if you need to cling to that, feel free, because I do too.
“Well, a fake Jamaican took every last dime with that scam
It was worth it just to learn from slight-of-hand
Bad news comes, don't you worry even when it lands
Good news will work its way to all them plans
We both got fired on the exactly the same day
Well we'll float on,
Good news is on the way…
And we'll all float on alright
Already we'll all float on
Alright don't worry
Even if things end up a bit too heavy
We'll all float on alright.”
Float On by Modest Mouse
My creator didn’t put me in charge of my daughter’s sibling situation. He allowed me to be a part of Madeleine’s life. If he gifts me with the opportunity to love on another, then regardless of how that child happens to meander into my life, I hope I will have the courage to welcome her…or him…with all the life within me, regardless of how many hours we are allotted, and accept the challenges that arrive intertwined with the joy. But maybe there is more to the picture than I can see right now; and maybe I’m here with these eccentricities so I can love on others who may be walking similarly troubled pathways to share with them the good news of which I need to remind myself. Whether a child, friend, neighbor, stranger at the park, a stranger at the dumpster, or a soul who is stumbling under the heavy load, maybe we can share our stories and see whose experience cost the most money.
With shaking hands, weak arms, and possibly a little twinge of jealousy for those who seem to have it easier, we unlock the door. I guess that deadline isn’t so big after all. He’s just an apparition anyway.
What is your least favorite part of a church service?
You know you have one.
Whether you’re the person coordinating the event, behind the board in the sound booth, on stage holding a guitar or microphone, or waiting for your turn at the pulpit, there’s that moment where you have to brace yourself, wince inwardly, and take a deep breath when That Time begins. Yes, you know what I’m talking about.
Mine is the greeting time. I can’t stand it. Imagine how Lina Lamont says it in her nasally voice in Singin’ In The Rain. I caaaaaan’t staaand it. You have to smile at everyone around you, even though moments ago you were just wondering what you were going to have for lunch and don’t know if you really want to eat at home but the hubster wants to eat out so there’s going to be an argument later. Then you have to look around to see who’s reaching out toward you to shake your hand. Shake Your Hand. Shake. Your. Hand. Because I definitely shake everybody’s hand when I see them. No! There are some hugs, friendly banter. If there is a voluntary handshake in Real Life, it’s usually one of those two-handed handshakes that just feels more sincere than its predecessor.
And then there’s the awesome conversation that you have with a)strangers and b)friends.
Conversation A goes like:
Person 1: Hi there.
Person 2: Hi.
Person 1: How are you?
Person 2: Doing good this morning.
Person 1: Good, good. Glad to hear it.
Person 2: And you?
Person 1: Yes, good. It’s good to see you!
Person 2: You too.
Conversation B goes like:
Friend 1: Hi there.
Friend 1: How are you?
Me: Doing good this morning.
Friend 1: Good, good. Glad to hear it.
Me: And you?
Friend1: Yes, good. It’s good to see you!
Me: You too.
And then move on, and so on, and henceforth, and blah blah blah until the song starts up again and, praise the Lord, there is relief from the agony. I just spent about half an hour looking for jokes about greeting time at church and couldn’t find any. I think that is surprising. There were a lot of terrible jokes, and it kind of made me feel bad that I was making fun of or complaining about one of the aspects of a church service. See, I do try not to complain about something unless I can find a viable solution for fixing it. Unless I can change a scenario, hot glue, paint, or duct tape, or make some kind of phone call to somebody who CAN fix the broken thing, then I will try to just deal. But here’s the thing about the deal….greeting time happens in almost every church, in every service, and good luck trying to change it. And honestly, who cares? Who cares that it’s awkward, fake, and a terrible way to spread germs like the plague?
There was a service my husband and I attended, which brilliantly avoided greeting time. I LOVED that service. You walk in the building; in the foyer was a table for making a cup of coffee. Walk into the worship center and the lights were dim, there was music in the background. You could converse with people or just take a seat. We’d have the music, the speaker, and afterward many of us would go out to dinner. Oh yes. That’s right.
What is it about the Greeting Time that I find so terrible? Am I alone in this?! I just don’t like the close proximity, the short-lived moment in which nobody is ready to discuss how they are ACTUALLY feeling that morning, and the forced faux friendliness. If you know me, then it’s cool if we have a little or big hug and/or a handshake if we usually handshake. But if I see you at the grocery store and we chat better than we do during the Greeting Time, let’s just be done with the waxy mannerisms, shall we? Nobody needs to shake my hand, and it never ever anywhere makes me feel welcome. I don’t know where your hands have been. Were you just picking your nose? Picking the lint in your pocket? Picking something out of your teeth? Ew. I don’t want your morning’s eggs on my hands. Even if you’re nice.
What is it about a handshake?
I’m not criticizing the fact that new people need to feel welcome, and I do understand how necessary it is for anybody who has arrived at an event to feel invited, part of the group, and that they belong. I agree with that. But it seems there should be a better way to make that happen. I don’t know if it can happen in a two-minute segue.
Maybe it has to do with me.
I DO realize that most people probably don’t even blink when it comes to greeting time. For me it’s a grinding of the teeth, nails on the chalkboard, a train wreck. I think my blood pressure skyrockets when I’m forced to meet new people that are standing right behind me. Maybe it has something to do with the ensuing chaos of people suddenly talking, walking around, moving every which way. Maybe it has to do with a fear of crowds or something. Check it out; just looked up “fear of crowds phobia” and what’s kind of funny is what came up:
That’s right. Agoraphobia is “an anxiety disorder characterized by anxiety in situations where the sufferer perceives the environment to be difficult or embarrassing to escape.” I get that, Wikipedia. I get that.
Now, I’m not looking for myself to have more trouble or drama than I already have, but let’s face it. Greeting time is a breeding ground for agoraphobes. Party rock, agoraphobes! Let’s hear it for the boys!
I’d rather have a quiet moment to chat with someone about what her name is, if she has come before, and what program I can interest her in. Or discuss how cute her shoes are. Or ask a question about my daughter’s teeth or health and how it relates to that person’s daughter. And a two –minute rock concert just doesn’t help that.
Now, don’t get me wrong in that I really DO like the real moments from people that I do know. I love a hug from a friend, waving to a friendly face across the room, and laughing about my poor husband’s wonky guitar solo that we will laugh about when we go out to lunch later. (Love you!)
I just needed to write something out about Greetin’ Time after a couple pointless handshakes yesterday. I really need to remember to put some hand sanitizer in my purse. It’s just one of those things you have to deal with, this GT. It’s definitely not a gift or talent for me.
I am reminded of my social awkwardness at the park. It’s this innate fear within me, of addressing Strangers. It doesn’t matter if they look friendly, kind, or like airplane hijackers, there’s this inner struggle to force words out of my mouth. Blarg! When I was a child my mother called it Shyness. Now I’m searching for a name and a cure; you see, it’s easier to defeat a problem when you can give it a name. And as a leader for an important ministry to my heart, as a Christ-follower, as a mom, I need to be able to walk up to new people and not feel like Cousin It. But I’m an organizer, not a greeter.
After months of vexation with my daughter, trying every tactic to get her to Take A Nap, I finally settled on the solution of singing hymns to her. For some reason, this works. I’m so glad. It started out with holding her down, holding her hand, and singing any song I could find in my old hymnbook for as long as it took for her to fall asleep, and now she asks me to sing songs from my book. Actually, if I leave before she’s completely asleep she will pull the book off her dresser where I leave it, and pull it into bed with her. And…. after that she usually comes to get me and asks, “What’s wrong with me?” and I walk her back to bed to see that she’s been trying to sleep on top of the hardback book.
I thumb through, perusing the songs I grew up learning in choir, and sing what I know. I try to settle on the ones that are slower, calmer, and I have found that the ones where I sing a bit higher are the ones that work the best. Some favorites are “Be Thou My Vision,” “In The Garden,” “My God is Near Me All The Time,” and “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.”
In college we had this event called Renaissance Week, where the entire university held activities, a big dinner, some shows, and lectures on the Renaissance. I went to one where a music professor talked about A Mighty Fortress, and it was such an interesting discussion. I love learning about where stories and songs come from.
Martin Luther wrote the words and composed the melody sometime between 1527 and 1529. Remember that Martin Luther was a German monk, priest, professor of theology and iconic figure of the Protestant Reformation (Wikipedia). He strongly disputed the claim that freedom from God's punishment for sin could be purchased with money; that salvation is not earned but a gift of God; and helped the Bible become more accessible to the common man.
Quick facts about “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God”:
• It has been called the "Battle Hymn of the Reformation" for the effect it had.
• It was a tribute to Luther's friend Leonhard Kaiser, who was executed on August 16, 1527.
• The words are a paraphrase of Psalm 46.
• Luther composed the melody, named "Ein feste Burg" from the text's first line, in meter 220.127.116.11.7. This is sometimes denoted "rhythmic tune" to distinguish it from the later isometric variant, in 18.104.22.168.7 (thanks Wikipedia).
• This hymn covers the full sweep of the Christian's life. In it, we find the answer to conflict, striving, spiritual warfare, and at last, victory” (<http://www.crosswalk.com/11583552/ > 10 Sept 2012).
One of the most significant facts I learned about the song was that not every verse ends with a cheerful note, literally, musically, and lyrically. Here are the lyrics:
A mighty fortress is our God,
a bulwark never failing;
our helper he amid the flood
of mortal ills prevailing.
For still our ancient foe
doth seek to work us woe;
his craft and power are great,
and armed with cruel hate,
on earth is not his equal.
Did we in our own strength confide,
our striving would be losing,
were not the right man on our side,
the man of God's own choosing.
Dost ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus, it is he;
Lord Sabaoth, his name,
from age to age the same,
and he must win the battle.
And though this world, with devils filled,
should threaten to undo us,
we will not fear, for God hath willed
his truth to triumph through us.
The Prince of Darkness grim,
we tremble not for him;
his rage we can endure,
for lo, his doom is sure;
one little word shall fell him.
That word above all earthly powers,
no thanks to them, abideth;
the Spirit and the gifts are ours,
thru him who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go,
this mortal life also;
the body they may kill;
God's truth abideth still;
his kingdom is forever.
Who’s got no equal on earth in verse 1? Our ancient foe. So why are we singing out him being so strong?! Look at verse 3: God hath willed his truth to triumph through us. Our enemy may be unequal, but one little word shall fell him. One little word, one little name: Jesus. That name, that word, above all earthly powers. Let goods and kindred go; this mortal life also. God’s truth abideth still; his kingdom is forever.
Psalm 46 says:
God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Come and see the works of the Lord,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear,
he burns the shields with fire.
“Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Fortress: a large fort or fortified town; a place or source of refuge or support. Bulwark: any protection against external danger, injury, or annoyance. I like the reminder, that the almighty, protecting God who was around in 1 BC, who was around in 1527, is still around and present as ever in 2012. He abideth still.
Even during Greeting Time.
Even when you step in gum in the parking lot.
Even when the plans go wrong.
Even when you can’t hand her a brochure.
Even when you can’t find wiggle room in the budget.
Even when gray clouds fill the sky, masking the bright yellow sun.
Lord Sabaoth, the Lord of Hosts, of armies, from age to age the same. And He must win the battle.
So whether the battle is internal, or external, among friends or strangers, or silly awkwardness at the park or in line at the grocery store, He can work through it. He’s the one to run to, flinging our shameful inadequacy into his arms when we forget, fail, or falter. “God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts. The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress” (Psalm 46:5-7).
Maybe today is your Greeting Time. Maybe Greeting Time is your favorite thing, or maybe you’re glad to be on stage with a microphone so you don’t have to participate. Well for those of us in the audience, I’ll just keep on singing the chords and remember that even when my blood pressure rises, there’s a stronger one standing beside me. And he must win the battle.
Lately the word “Brave” has been floating around in the recesses of my mind. It’s wafting about like a speck of dust on a sunbeam, or a balloon in an air-conditioning draft. It’s bumping about, touching on memories, last looks, final hugs, sunrises, cups of coffee, and the thumping of feet on the pavement at the park. Do I consider myself brave? Nah. Not on any given day.
I saw the movie Brave. I kind of thought the protagonist was a little rebellious and the floaty-glowy-ball-light-fairies were a tad unrealistic. In my daily life, there are absolutely no floaty-glowy-ball-light-fairies hovering about, tempting me to follow them. That would actually make things quite a bit easier than they are. Instead, I related more to the mother character in the movie, and understand feeling more bear than bonnie lass.
Is “brave” a warrior, a champion, who fights to the death in arenas when there is no other choice than to thrust defiant fists into the air? Is being brave challenging “fate”? Is being brave a puffing out of the chest, a brandishing of the sword? Is it brave to just open your eyes in the morning and consider getting out of bed?
The dictionary first puts the word Brave in the adjective category. It is: 1) possessing or exhibiting courage or courageous endurance; 2) making a fine appearance. Then as a noun it is 1) a brave person, 2) a warrior, especially among North American Indian tribes; and 3) a bully; a boast or challenge. As a verb used with objects, it means 1) to meet or face courageously: to brave misfortunes; 2) to defy; challenge; dare, and 3) to make splendid.
Stick with me here.
1. bold, intrepid, daring, dauntless, heroic. Brave, courageous, valiant, fearless, gallant refer to confident bearing in the face of difficulties or dangers. ‘Brave’ is the most comprehensive: it is especially used of that confident fortitude or daring that actively faces and endures anything threatening. ‘Courageous’ implies a higher or nobler kind of bravery, especially as resulting from an inborn quality of mind or spirit that faces or endures perils or difficulties without fear and even with enthusiasm. ‘Valiant’ implies a correspondence between an inner courageousness and external deeds, particularly of physical strength or endurance. ‘Fearless’ implies unflinching spirit and coolness in the face of danger. ‘Gallant’ implies a chivalrous, impetuous, or dashing bravery.
Is picking up my husband’s socks and underwear from the closet floor considered brave? I venture to say yes. Is killing a spider, when there’s no one else around to kill it, brave? Again, it is a two-armed mortal against an eight-limbed demon, and hence therefore deserves the label of dauntless.
What if there’s a fear of something greater, of a severe earth shift, of loss? What if there is an ongoing season of goodbyes and what's left is rather sadness than gumption? What if the heavy is also dark?
“It is awfully hard to be brave, when you're only a Very Small Animal.”
- A. A. Milne (Winnie-The-Pooh)
In these shifting sands, I often feel like a Very Small Animal, just one pinpoint among the many, many stars. The reality is that I am not invincible, dreams shift and shatter, and yellow-brick roads sometimes lead to dead ends. Sometimes life is a quick drop, a sudden stop. And what do we do? We can look up into the blue sky and wonder who is watching. We can glance over our shoulders to see if anybody saw when we fell down and skinned our knees. We can wipe away that glimmer of a tear because there just isn’t time right now.
I have always liked the movie Elizabethtown. It is the story of a man whose great invention at a shoe company craters and he is fired; while he rigs a contraption to commit suicide, his sister calls to inform him that his father had a heart attack and died. Yeah yeah, it sounds sad, whatever. This is the platform from which he falls, however, and the audience takes the journey with him, facing failure and its wretched aftermath, burial, crazy extended family, intense sorrow, regret, new love, and fresh beginnings.
“You have five minutes to wallow in the delicious misery,” Claire Colburn says in a note to Drew Baylor. “Enjoy it, embrace it, discard ...and proceed.”
“Sadness is easier because it's surrender. I say, make time to dance alone with one hand waving free.”
I think the writers of this story understood sadness and its toll. We see Drew dancing under a grove of shade trees after scattering some of his dad’s ashes along the road. He cries; sometimes you can dance and cry at the same time, and it’s more about being in the moment than searching for triumph.
And one quote Claire gives to Drew, which sits on a back shelf of my mind for those difficult days when I really don’t want to do the laundry but the closet is stinky so it’s either my nose or my sanity, and sometimes my nose wins…..
Claire says, “We are intrepid. We carry on.”
When I first heard that word in the film, and taking the context of that moment, for some reason I assumed the word ‘intrepid,’ meant something like ‘long-suffering’ or some glorious, persevering, walking word. You know -- a word that has to do with walking long distances. I know; my vocabulary should be better. Sometimes it is. But today as I looked up synonyms with ‘brave,’ there appeared the word, ‘intrepid.’ Ah, then. Intrepid means ‘fearless and bold.’ Plucky. Dauntless. Resolute.
We are intrepid. We carry on.
Is a person just brave when he needs to be? How does bravery – courage – makes itself present and perfect? Does it count to be brave if you really don’t want to be? What if you have the opportunity to walk away and live, when walking toward the object of fear could mean death or intense loneliness? What if you have to make the decision on your own?
“David also said to Solomon his son, ‘Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you.’”
1 Chronicles 28:20
That one sums about all of it up. It works for any problem, any situation. God will not fail or leave. Be strong, be courageous, do the work.
How do I know if it’s supposed to be my work? What if I’m just putting that pressure on myself?
I don’t know.
“Even cowards can endure hardship; only the brave can endure suspense.”
~ Mignon McLaughlin
“Living by faith includes the call to something greater than cowardly self-preservation.”
~ J.R.R. Tolkien
“We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are.”
~ Madeleine L'Engle
“Our fate lives in us. You only have to be brave enough to see it.”
~ Pixar’s “Brave”
I don’t know or attribute much to ‘fate’ and its friends. But there is a journey, a path, a web, a plotline, through which we travel while on this earth. What I’m starting to see is that the more difficult the landscape, the more I see of my true self. I see the selfish flippancy, the materialistic cravings, the immature belief. I see the shaking flesh, the whimpering muscles. Through the emptying out there is an instigation of firmness within me; as the complaining sifts out like powdery flour, a more solid hand forms a tangible faith. You see, I am petty, I am weak. I am late, I am clumsy, I am dubious. But the God who made me has me here to learn more about his security. He is secure, he is Always. He is intrepid.
But I don’t always know his plan, and that kind of makes my heart four-cups-of-coffee jittery.
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”
~ Winston Churchill
“Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'
'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.”
~ George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
“Before I knew you, I thought brave was not being afraid. You've taught me that bravery is being terrified and doing it anyway.”
~ Laurell K. Hamilton, Blood Noir
So, maybe, sticking around counts as bravery. Not everyone sticks around.
“I think laughter may be a form of courage. As humans we sometimes stand tall and look into the sun and laugh, and I think we are never more brave than when we do that.”
- Linda Ellerbee
Let’s refer back to the synonyms of brave: “‘Courageous’ implies a higher or nobler kind of bravery, especially as resulting from an inborn quality of mind or spirit that faces or endures perils or difficulties without fear and even with enthusiasm.”
Facing the changes in life, just by walking through them, counts as bravery. Humans are flawed, containing an inborn quality of mind and spirit that will endure peril and difficulty. Can we face our flaws without fear? Can we face the cold winter, the bare tree branches and hardened earth? Can we face this with enthusiasm? What if our biggest challenge lies within us?
“It is easy to be brave from a safe distance.”
Claire: “You want to be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling. That's true greatness to me.”
“Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.”
He is the Everlasting, the hope and the healer. If our God is for us, then who can stop us?
As a child of the King, there is no logical, physical, or mental reason not to be brave. His spirit is in me. He rescues me every morning, every sunset, every spider, every sprained ankle, every bruised ego. He makes me courageous, if only I will let him make me fearless. It’s my choice to give in to the sadness or ask him for a little more strength.
“And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.” ~ Philippians 4:19
His riches are more than just padded bank accounts, stacks of gold bars, and stock market dividends. His riches are strength for the weary, comfort, fullness of heart, mercy, seeing Him, peace, and inheriting the kingdom of heaven. His gifts are close hugs, warm beds, gut-clutching laughter, cloudless skies, and the soft whispering of the stars.
His reward is his presence.
I think I can be brave so long as he’s holding my hand. Then I can make time to dance along with my other hand waving free.
<http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/brave?s=t> (3 Sept 2012)
But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. (1 Corinthians 1:9)
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