“A ship is always safe at shore but that is not what it’s built for.”
– Albert Einstein –
There is a part of me that craves safety.
Something deep–maybe fear? A wishing that the storms would never blow in.
This part of me–I know it’s selfish. But it is so tempting to just hide and pretend all is well when life has blustered up snow clear past the windows. The cold is everywhere and I’m snowed-in for a good long while.
With people, it’s just so hard to keep saying yes to them and no to the things tugging my heart. It’s hard to say “I’m sorry” again and again, to wonder if I’ll ever get this daughter thing right. This sister thing. This friend thing.
Sometimes I just want to be a hermit and make my own pretend world–not because of a lack of blessings, but a lack of security in this real world.
How can I be safe?
I can stop trying.
No more caring–doesn’t love hurt too much?
No more reaching out. At least I couldn’t be rejected.
No more working for responsibilities. Can apathy hurt more than over-and-again failure?
No more vision. Why jump at all if the goal’s too high?
These thoughts, frustrated impulses, almost sweep me away. And, along, with these, comes the deeper conviction that the problem is mine. Something in me must be desperately wrong, for it to come to this.
This. To give in, to follow this only safe way–what is the cost?
Here’s the truth: Living isn’t safe.
And if I give up all these hard things, what’s left?
For safety, I’d be giving up life itself.
The options weigh heavy on my spirit. The real problem suddenly surfaces in my mind, in the shape of a verse learned long ago.
“Lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God….” (2 Timothy 3:4)
Conviction hits, hard.
More than God?
More than Him, I so often cling to my agenda, my dreams, my way, my rights, my comfort, and my safety.
Pleasure more than God.
But if I were to retreat to the “safe,” lifeless place where my own pleasure lives, all would be lost. This soul wasn’t made to grovel for command or shrink from light or hide away from all that stings. This soul was made to soar the heights of what God’s love can do in a vessel given over.
“Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.”
– Theodore Roosevelt –
And like that ship that Einstein spoke of, this soul might have a brief moment of safety by refusing to do what I was carefully knit together to do, formed to fulfill from the womb by my own Maker’s fingers. But if I do, I will miss everything.
If a soul does not surrender to Christ’s shaping…
…it is a tool rusting on the shelf, never to be used to carve a masterpiece…a bird content to look into skies he will never touch with outstretched wings…a stunted sapling afraid to extend its limbs, afraid to reach the heights…
And, yes, a ship.
A ship that will never feel the tickle of waves under her hull, never swell her sails with the swooping, rushing gusts of heaven, never bathe her deck in the shimmering gold cast to the farthest horizons by a sinking sun.
Even now, I’m weighing anchor.
I will not live the life of shrinking back (Hebrews 10:39).
Forget playing life safe.
This ship is setting sail.
“Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me. Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”
– Philippians 3:12-14, NKJV, emphasis mine –