Where fear tempts me to stay home... step out

“control smothers and fear asphyxiates and even now we could trust and nod yes to God's yes of today and now and breath.” – A Holy Experience

Sometimes the hardest thing is to move forward; like a cold, dark winter’s morning where the bed is so soft and warm, and the day seems so long and the floor so darn freezing. Now, where I am, is so comfortable, it’s not perfect but I know it and I can make it work… but you Lord, are inviting me into the unknown, where I don’t see how *I* can possibly make it work. Which, unfortunately, is your point, isn’t it? That it’s not about me making things come together, but becoming willing to let you do it all. How that thought terrifies me, it makes my heart drop, worse than a roller coaster.

I have put up my blankets, tucked and pinned them tight around my space; like my childhood forts, warm and ‘safe’. But you invite me, oh so gently, and with the outstretched hand of my husband beckoning me to step out, to see so much more than the familiar. The flannels are worn and soft… but your wilderness is breathtaking in its beauty, I’ve had glimpses before and the still small voice in my heart cries out to experience it more fully. Is it worth it to choose what I know so well because I fear where He might take me?... No, even with my trembling heart I must follow Him, even if He may mislead me (impossible as that is), He is my heart, He is my life and life without following His voice is darkness to me.

Breathe deep dear heart… and nod, whisper, “yes”.

Don't Look Down

The only way to learn how to do it faster, more accurately… is not to look down. When I look down I slow down, and I don’t learn. But I don’t want to trust my fingers, they don’t know where to go yet and I don’t want to deal with mistakes, I want to trust my eyes, then I *know* that I’m pressing the right button, striking the correct keys. I don’t like mistakes, they glare at me, “they’re wasted time” my mind rails… But I’m wrong, again, how can I learn how to do it correctly and quickly, without letting my fingers figure it out on their own?

Is life much different? How much does my inner pride squirm when I have to admit my own mis-struck keys? How much do I want to see before I press? How often do I freeze because “what if I…?”. How often to do I torture my mind going over my mis-spoken words, my stumbling tongue, my ‘not good enough’ writing? Even more so… how can I hear that still small voice when I let the cacophony of my ego, my pride scream out “don’t do it! You’ll mess up! It won’t be good enough!”

But that’s really the point isn’t it? I’m not supposed to be good enough, if *I* was good enough… how would anyone see my wonderful Christ? My beautiful Jesus? It hurts to be broken, to be threshed on the floor, I don’t want to be without my covering. But I have seen the path that fear takes me, I’ve felt the breath of the deceiver whispering in my ear… and I followed what I heard; I have taken the ‘easy’ path and seen the pain it has wrought. I will do what I can to not go there again. So I bow low, I open myself in all it’s hurting, broken ugliness and pray to my Redeemer “please, take this and mold it to bring you glory.” I quake at the uncertainty, I have no idea what His story will look like, what road I will have to take. But in my fear… I choose trust today.