Living Where Fear and Faith Collide

Psalm 119:133-135 ~ Keep steady my steps according to your promise, and let no iniquity get dominion over me. Redeem me from man’s oppression that I may keep your precepts. Make your face shine upon your servant , and teach me your statutes. (ESV)

 

Where do you live?

I don’t mean geographically. I mean day-to-day. Hour-by-hour. Minute-by-minute.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I’ve come to this conclusion.

I live in that murky place where fear and faith collide.

You might not realize this, but I know a few things about fear. I’m not afraid of heights, spiders, small spaces, or long bridges.

I’m afraid of people.

People like you.

I’m not afraid of being in crowds and I don’t have panic attacks at the thought of going to a party. But I do spend a ridiculous amount of time worrying about what people think about me. Did they like the last blog post? (Maybe). Did I talk too much at that party? (Probably). Are my clothes so boring that I’m a good candidate for What Not to Wear? (Likely). Am I the butt of many a joke when I’m not around? (Hard to say).

Of course, the most important question is, Why do I care?

I know who I am. I’m a child of the King. I was created in the image of the Most High. Designed by my Maker for a unique purpose in His Kingdom. My personality, likes, dislikes, strengths, and weaknesses are all a part of His master plan.

I know this. In my head.

But my heart struggles to live where faith trumps fear. Every day is a battle between my desire to stay in the boat and the call to step out in faith and walk on the water.

That world out there—out of the boat—is a wild place. There are rip-currents of confusion and tsunamis of criticism. Staying on the water requires faith in and focus on the One who calls.

Sometimes I jump out and run for it before my mind can stop me. Some days I hang onto the sides, heart racing, unable to move.

Most days, I’m right there where my fear and faith collide. I’m out of the boat, but I’m not necessarily on the water. I start strong, but then I waver. I get wet—a lot. I sink, cry out, fall into grace, and time and time again, my Savior steadies my steps and mercifully allows me to try again.

Every blog post, every word of fiction, and every devotion you read that has my name on it is a little piece of me. A visible souvenir of the war between my desire to live hidden and my desire to live obedient.

I don’t know where you live. I don’t know what God’s asking you to do. I don’t know what risks you need to take.

I do know that it’s worth it. And if you’d like to share what God is calling you to do in the comments, I’d love to pray with you as we step out in faith together.

Father, Thank you for calling us to step out in faith. Help us to trust You to steady our steps as we follow where You lead.