Be strong and courageous.
Of all the things God would want to say to me in this moment, I was not expecting “be strong and courageous”. The truth is, I don’t want to “be strong and courageous” and I can feel each syllable swinging from the hangy-down thing* in the back of my throat. I don’t feel very strong and courageous – tired and clinging to the life-raft of grace is probably more fitting these days.
But here I am mesmerized by the white abyss of this blog wondering why the font staring back exhilarates and terrifies me oh so much. I think I’ve become too comfortable in the silence and moroseness of being a closet author. Here it is: I’m afraid of failure, afraid of success, afraid of the unknown, and ultimately afraid of trusting God with any and all of it. Trusting God may be the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. To be so vulnerable, so infantile in my needs and desires. To give up my right to call the shots and to step into the unknown with Him.
Be strong and courageous.
“This book of instruction must not depart from your mouth, you are to recite it day and night so that you may carefully observe everything written in it. For then you will prosper and succeed in whatever you do. Haven’t I commanded you: be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
Okay, so essentially, God is saying any life worth living takes guts. Any opportunity worth taking involves a risk. He goes on by throwing in a, “no worries, I’ll go with you – you’ve got this.” It blows my mind that the same God who desires and requires my faith is willing to reciprocate in just the same way towards me. God believes in me. He is the hockey mom on the bleachers wearing the ridiculously overpriced jersey with my name on it. Yeah, you know the one – the one who cheers the loudest at the games and who better not hear you talking smack about her kid. Mama cougars are less threatening than she is when it comes to her child’s well-being.
So this blog is me being strong and courageous the best way I know how. This is me throwing control out of the window and saying “God, I trust you – with my fears, my tears, and even my dreams of becoming a legitimate author.”
I’m pretty sure God is waving a foam finger and cheering me on.
*to my anatomy professors in college – you have not failed the education system. I do remember that the “hangy-down thing” was called a uvula, but “hangy-down thing” is so much more descriptive and well, lets face it – it’s a lot more fun to say.*