As I sit here in the light of my desk lamp, a pack of chocolate to my right for moral support, I begin to put finishing touches on my mini sermon about being bravely me. Next week I speak to a group of Mothers that I have never met before about my life . About being brave. But I’m not brave. I just was forced to be.
Sometimes being brave isn’t a choice, it’s a motion. It’s something you choose in order to keep changing diapers and face what life brings your way. To me, bravery is a cheap word for FAITH. Faith for me means trusting Jesus to be what I cannot. Showing me what my eyes cannot see, and mold my spirit into what I cannot be on my own. Faith is being brave, but not in your own strength. But with His strength holding you up, when you fall. Before you fall, and when you sit.
Faith is a choice, a conscious decision to trust, which becomes a lifestyle. Once we choose faith, it never leaves the top of our brain stems. Every choice and event in life brings us back to that decision to trust in His unfailing love for us. Every thought and mindset we develop is weighed with our faith in Him alone.
Faith in ourselves is useless. Just as useless as giving a toddler raw meat and expecting him to cook it. Prepare it for a feast. He can’t do that. It’s dangerous right? He will surely burn himself, and fail. Just as when we trust and put faith in only ourselves we fail. Every time.
Faith really rocks us when we walk into unsuspecting waters of our lives. The waves are too high Lord, I need to duck under to save myself… as He chants to ride them. Eyes wide we agree, as we crash under the waves power. Does this mean we have failed? No. He wants to show us what it looks like under our minds realm of thinking. There is more than the wave in our lives, there’s above it…under it…around it. We can only get there when we agree to ride it.
When I speak on being brave, I will assure these women that I am not brave. My bones aren’t made to be fearless, although I have a rebellious spirit I have to tame every now and then, or rather each day. But it’s my faith in him, completing me to be the best wife, mother, sister, friend I can be that makes me even an inch of brave.
When sharing my testimony, if JUST one woman is touched by my story, touched by the Jesus in me, pulling me through and loving me….then all this preparation is worth it. I’m going for the one woman in the crowd that feels alone, and afraid.
Listen , we do not have to live in fear of the future. Our past does not define the woman we are today, but rather writes our chapters in our book. Once we get to the end we are wise in faith and ripe with truth. In the end we will see where our faith in HIM journeyed us to, where otherwise we would have remained in fear.
Everyone has a story to be told. Knowing your mouths worth is key. You have something to say. It’s a lie from the pit of hell that your story doesn’t matter. It does. Speak.