I’d like to tell you I’m brave and adventurous. But I’m not. I’m a big fat chicken. I used to be more courageous, more willing to throw caution to the wind and drive off to unknown places and hop on a plane to unfamiliar territory. Back when I was young (so many moons ago) I didn’t care about taking risks so much because I was the only one at risk. It reminds me of the time I drove to Nashville on this great adventure to become a songwriter; the risk of leaving my job and the life I’d always known was all on my shoulders. If I loved it and it all worked out, great. If I failed, no big deal. I was only failing myself. I could always head home with the thought of, “Well at least I tried.”
But I’m much older now and the risks don’t just involve me. I’m married. My husband and I have a daughter. And the very idea of spur-of-the-moment, life-altering decisions makes me sweat. I don’t like it. I like predictability now. I enjoy the time of day when my husband comes home from work with a kiss and listening for our daughter’s school bus stopping at the bottom of our drive. I count on these things. I count on fixing dinner, washing the dishes, and folding laundry.
But sometimes God isn’t calling us to a predictable life. I mean, how would our faith grow if things never changed, if challenges never surfaced, if we stayed on the same gravel road? Sometimes God wants us to follow Him into the weeds, into the forest where we can’t see much of anything; trusting only His hand in ours and His gentle whisper.
That’s what I’m about to do. By writing this post, I’m stepping out in faith and clutching onto His hand. I’m still very much afraid, but I’m trusting God to hold me when I’m feeling weak in the knees, when I don’t know what I’m doing, when I can’t see my hand in front of my face. I’m trusting His Word: “When I’m weak, then I’m strong.” And I know I need His strength to stand, to follow His lead on this new path.
Inside, I’m still the little girl with dirt caked under my nails from making mud pies, still the tomboy with tangled hair and scraped-up knees from climbing trees, and I’m still the girl who trembles at the thought of standing up in front of a crowd to speak. But God is calling me to do that very thing, to talk about Him. Gulp.
It’s a new adventure. A new adventure with God. But this is certainly no drive to Nashville. I’m not by myself on this one. I have the support of my family and friends. And really, I have my Heavenly Father showing me which way to go. I don’t need to have all of the answers or all the directions mapped out in advance. I just have to accept God’s invitation to take a deep breath, grab His hand, and step out the door.
The benefits of this risk? A deeper walk with God as my faith grows. Snuggling up closer to Him in my most profound moments of weakness, clinging to His Word for my very breath, and embracing the opportunity to connect with you, His children, in ways I can’t even imagine right now.
And I am deeply humbled and honored that God would even consider leading an old tomboy like me with tangles and dishpan hands on such an adventure.
Thank you, Lord. Please help me to serve You well.
“But he [the Lord] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV.)