Finding Fearless

finding fearless

Fearless.

Last year, my word was discover. It felt adventurous, curious, hopeful…I didn’t quite know what would unfold during the year, but I was sure something was unfolding.

I was right. 2017 was a mixture of many different kinds of discovery. It held triumphs and pains unlike any other year I have ever had. Discover, I learned, didn’t mean reading through National Geographic on a more routine basis, or taking more nature walks, or finding a new hobby.

Discover meant that I unearthed things about myself that I would have rather left buried. It meant that I discovered my capacity for intense pain. I learned about my Enneagram personality number, and all the necessary steps to growth that come with it. I discovered that, as emotional as I thought I was, I was not very good at feeling things in the moment. My emotions take a while to steep and process–and boy, did I have a lot to process in 2017.

Discover was a lot harder than I thought. And, honestly, welcome, my word for 2016, took a lot of unexpected twists as well.

So, as I pick fearless as my 2018 word, it’s, ironically, with a bit of fear.

It’s sort of like the story of the girl who prayed for patience, but got upset when the Lord sent turmoil into her life. I would like my fearlessness bestowed upon me in a Divine impartation.

“Do you mind, Lord, if I skip the trial and tribulation and fearful part of becoming fearless?”

fearless art sign

For me, being fearless in 2018 means looking forward to a year that will likely involve intense change. I am planning a move across state lines sometime in this year, from Arkansas back to my native Texas. In the months to come, I will be changing jobs, changing states, changing homes, changing churches…pretty much everything constant and stable in my life will rearranged or replaced.

But that’s not all. As I discovered more about myself in 2017, I learned that I am very fearful of venturing out verbally. I might not be fearful of a giant, transformational move…but I am fearful of telling you what I think, particularly if my opinion could cause you discomfort.

As I consider the ramifications of being fearless, I wonder what it would be like to finally let go of all this burden. What if I could finally stop fearing that God disapproves of me? What if I could enter relationships freely without being afraid of others not accepting or enjoying my presence? What if I could stop second-guessing my family’s pride in me? What if I could stop reliving the haunting memories out of the fear that I will miss an important life lesson?

I have no doubt that fearless is the perfect word for this year.

There is freedom waiting for me on the other side of fear.

And, as afraid as I am of this word I have chosen, I still pick it.

Fearless.

May I chase it. May I study it. May I get a taste of what life could be without a drop of fear. May I lean fully into the Everlasting Arms that promise to never, ever, ever let me go.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation—
    so why should I be afraid?
The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger,
    so why should I tremble…
Though a mighty army surrounds me,
    my heart will not be afraid.
Even if I am attacked,
    I will remain confident….

For he will conceal me there when troubles come;
    he will hide me in his sanctuary.
    He will place me out of reach on a high rock.
Then I will hold my head high
    above my enemies who surround me.
At his sanctuary I will offer sacrifices with shouts of joy,
    singing and praising the Lord with music.”

Psalm 27: 1,3,5-6, NLT


 

Join me in 2018 as I explore what I am learning about my journey to fearlessness! Each month, I’ll be back with a new aspect of how fearless is changing my year. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t afraid. But I’m also very excited. Won’t you come along? 

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Wind, Light, and Forest Footholds

path-in-the-late-sun

“The steps of faith fall on the seeming void, but find the rock beneath.”

– John Greenleaf Whittier –

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One thing is certain as I get older. Uncertainty. That ever-constant wind.

Sometimes that wind is warm and robust with adventure.

Sometimes it makes me afraid. Its fingers are cold and its face is wet and its chill wraps around and leaves me shivering.

Years ago, I set out on a path, led there by a Guide, the only One who knows–who is–the Way. Staying in that right way is hard; migrating off the course seems to come as naturally to me as to the dark, overhead arrows of south-veering geese.

Faith is a lesson that has come to me in these places, hunted me down, like Heaven’s Hound.

Faith has trailed me and found me in the dark, in the strange, lonely places where my feet slide in the path-edge crumbling. Many a weary time, I’ve looked down at the winding little trail, only shadows painting the ground beyond my current footholds. It’s true, those words–it seems there is “just enough light for the step I’m on.”

And for that one, I still have to squint.

Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home – Lead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene, – one step enough for me.

– John Henry Newman –

For some reason, in a journey’s thin light, my memory fades. If I were honest–if I were conscious–of all the places my Guide has brought me through before, maybe that next trembling footstep wouldn’t take so much out of me. If the way behind me wasn’t all fog and more shadows–shadows of dim remembrance–I might be able to hold a little bit less of my breath for the plunge forward into the unlit places.

So it is, that when I am hesitating here on the precipice from known to unknown–and I am here at this place, a thousand times today and yesterday and tomorrow–so it is that my Guide is all I have to go on. My Guide, and feeble rememberings, and grace that brings just enough light.

“All the way my Savior leads me,
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
….For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.

– Fanny Crosby, emphasis mine –

Sisters, all of us have forests with dark paths that wind into the distance. In my forest, I often travel alone–at least, alone with my Guide. But really, we are all together in this forest deep, threading through dim footpaths that intersect and mingle for a way and sometimes merge to go on the rest of the way together. We all have forest places where grace is our only light and faith our only foothold.

Let us look up, see the stars over the dark woods.

Light pinpricks, shapes of a thousand things to point us on and give us hope.

The adventure-wind whispers in the pines and dances in the oaks and shivers through the beeches and perches on my shoulder, trickling, tickling with its soft-breathed words. “The Guide who made these stars knows their names, each one. The Guide who grew this forest traced with His finger these meandering trails. The One who set your feet on this path counts the number of the strands of your hair shivering and streaming and shimmering in my breath. This Guide smiles on this direction you travel and braces your steps on the rocks with His own trail-worn hands and has promised to take you safely through this wood.”

“Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy…be glory….”

– Jude 1:24, NASB –

So it is that I am still stepping, my friends. I am still living an adventure here in this forest often dark, this forest called life. Sometimes the sunrise floods the silvered branches with light and I see the remembered shapes of what my Jesus has done and all it is that He has promised to do. I still close my eyes into the stiff, bright chill of the adventure-wind, smiling and hoping and praying.

This place, right here, is where I live.

Putting one step out in faith, waiting for the next glowing illumination of grace (2 Cor. 12:9). Jesus has never failed me, you know. He does all things well.

Even for this straying daughter who can’t seem to remember her way home.

Won’t you step out too?

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“Nothing does so establish the mind amidst the rollings and turbulences of present things, as to look above them and beyond them – above them, to the steady and good hand by which they are ruled, and beyond them, to the sweet and beautiful end to which, by that hand, they will be brought.”

– Jeremy Taylor –

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A big thank-you to John Luty at Public Domain Pictures for this lovely photo!