Brave

I was the kid who couldn’t run fast enough or catch a ball or balance in roller skates. I didn’t try athletics or anything that would demand a ton of physical strength, because what’s the point? If you grew up believing you’re weak, you’d eventually live it. And so I led a life of a weakling, living in fear all my life. I was hesitant to try new things. I didn’t dare to be adventurous. I put myself in a box, thinking I was secure in it. Put another way, my life was boring.

But when you’re in Christ, you’d know that life with Him is rarely a bore. He would push you out of your comfort zone, taking you on adventurous trips you wouldn’t have otherwise chosen for yourself. You could only tug on Him and plead to spare you from this, because, “God, I’m afraid.” But that’s exactly why you have to get on it, because it’s when you’re afraid you completely rely on Him. After all, He knows what He’s doing, and you are left with a choice to obey or disobey.

I chose to obey when I sensed God calling me on an adventure. It’s totally out of my comfort zone, but I realized it was that one thing I’d been waiting — praying — for.

But no sooner had I said yes than I also realized that for me to finish this adventure, I had to be strong. That’s something I knew I wasn’t.

Fear easily found a foothold once again. Discouraging me. Paralyzing me.

And I’m tired of it. Tired of being afraid, scared. Tired of cowering. Of backing out. Of taking cautious little steps. Of being uncertain. Of finding the courage you couldn’t see.

***

When you’re facing a mountain, you have to find the strength in yourself to climb it. Otherwise, you’re going to be stuck where you are — and I’m speaking literally here as much as figuratively.

Just this weekend I joined a mountain adventure with wonderful, beautiful, passionate-for-Christ ladies. When I say mountain adventure, I mean passing through caves, trekking toward the summit, crossing a hanging cable bridge. My fearful self would have liked to back out, or at least would have used a lot of pep talk. This wasn’t what I was used to doing.

But my fearful self surprisingly wasn’t around. I was able to hold myself together and put on some amount of boldness. I didn’t panic. Okay, maybe at some point I did, especially when I saw the cable bridge and considered my fear of heights.

But here’s the thing. I squeezed myself into the tiny spaces in the cave, climbed rocks, trekked in mostly muddy terrain, trod toward the summit, and balanced myself in a thin cable with a strength I didn’t know I have.

I didn’t know I have it because I was too afraid to know. Because it’s the kind of strength you’d only learn of when you throw yourself into uncomfortable, unfamiliar situations. True enough, only when I freely embarked on a seemingly scary adventure did I find out that God had already deposited His strength in me. What’s there to be afraid of?

I have already given my strength to you.  You are strong. You have it in you.

“I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

***

There’s confidence in awareness that when He gives you a task, God provides the strength you need to carry it out. But more importantly, there’s power when you allow God to unleash His strength in you.

So here I am today, a changed woman. It’s amazing how a weekend of adventure uncovered the brave and strong me. The past mindsets that have limited me and thwarted my potential are gone. God has parted the lies that have covered my heart for so long, revealing a fresh heart beating with His energy and strength.

Now I choose to live without fear.

I have come to terms with uncertainty.

I can take bold steps, confident that God has made the ground stable.

In the end, it all comes down to this: I am weak, but if God is living in me and God is strong, then I become strong.

Now that I realize how strong I am in Christ, I cannot begin to understand the magnitude of His work in and through me. So I say, “God, let’s get that adventure rolling.”

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6).

Tomorrow

Tomorrow I will go out, one sure step after another. Tomorrow I will feel the sun sinking deep into my ashen skin. Tomorrow I will let the breeze whoosh against my body. To listen to the sound of life. To witness moments of activity. To see random faces I will never again see, but learn to understand that behind the creasing of the forehead, the curving of the lips is a motivation to live. The sky is the roof to dispense light down on me. Seeping into every pocket of my soul. Revealing. Into every pocket I will deposit the sound, the smell, the taste, the texture, the image of being out there among them. Out of my tiny corner. Because tomorrow, I’ve decided, I will really live.

The kite philosophy

My niece is tugging hard on the string, shifting her weight from one foot to the other to keep her frame stable. If she wobbles, she will lose control of the kite, which by now flies higher into the sky as she lets go a length of the string at a time.

A swift moment after, the kite reaches the highest height its string will allow, stable up in the air, its tail dancing to the rhythm of the wind.

Happy with her feat, she then hands the string winder to my sister, effectively giving her all control of the airborne kite. My sister jumps at the chance, pleasure written all over her face. She pulls the kite a little, then turns to me and says, “Try it.”

I hesitate. I doubt I can control the kite against the wind. But she urges me and I give in. From where I sit, I can see the kite battling it out with the wind. It gives a slight pull. I answer it with a gentle tug.  Staring at the kite, I exclaim, “It’s such a nice feeling!”

An hour or so earlier, my sister and I were in the open field trying to fly the same kite. We took turns launching it and pulling the string in, but we never got to fly it at such a height. Worse, the kite crashed to the ground a number of times. It didn’t bother me, though, and in my mind I wasn’t as bad as I really was because from the get-go I was clear with my intention: I wouldn’t struggle with the wind and have the kite airborne like what the other kite flyers were attempting to do.

I know I couldn’t do it anyway.

I would just fly the kite at a height I could manage.

I now think back to the times I underperformed because of the limits I subconsciously set for myself, and the many opportunities I passed up because I thought I couldn’t deliver.

I didn’t fly the kite as high as the string would allow not because I couldn’t but because I’d said to myself I wouldn’t. Even before I started, my mindset worked against me — not the wind, not how the kite was launched, not how I tugged on the string.

I could have flown that kite high in the air, or snagged that writing opportunity, or approached certain people of note, or planted my feet in that lovely place, if I didn’t start out drawing my boundaries, telling myself what I could only do and how far I could only go. Doing so made me weak, and it inevitably became my excuse to back out at the bleakest prospect of difficulty and failure.

The reason for my past failures is that I allowed the limitations I’d predertermined for myself to set my course when in fact I am bigger and better than my limitations.

Truth is, I am that kite. I can fly high only if I let go of everything that holds me back — like how a kite flyer supposedly lets go of the string, with a trusting knowledge that each time he lets go, the kite glides higher.

What holds me back?

Fear holds me back.

Insecurity holds me back.

Pride holds me back.

Procrastination and laziness hold me back.

Wrong frame of mind holds me back.

Here within me is a suppressed potential. Everyone of us has. We are created to do greater than what we currently do — not necessarily greater in scope and size, but greater in significance and eternal value. We are destined to fly higher than where we are now, with our Ultimate Wind propelling us in the right direction, His character even magnified in our flight.

But first, we have to let go. Shall we?

As the new year unfolds, may we commit ourselves to being assertive, a doer, an action-maker, not putting limits to what we can do. Let’s not just sit idly and watch things happen; let’s make things happen. Let’s not just just seize opportunities; let’s create opportunities. Then we’ll be surprised at how far and high He can actually take us.

When I am the answer

I asked one important thing from God, one thing every Christian would pray for. Because I asked Him to increase my faith, I was confident He wouldn’t say no.

I sat back, waiting for Him to do wonders in my heart. That I’d wake up one morning already with vigorous faith, boldly believing for all the things I had prayed for, doubt no longer lingering in the corners of my heart. Instant miracle right there.

I came up empty instead. It felt like my level of faith was still the same on the day I prayed. Even worse, I found myself in tight situations and I had to tell God this was not what I prayed for. I prayed for bolder faith, didn’t I, Father?

Impatient thinking — foolish if I might say — is when I expect God to address my prayer that way. Like magic. That would make me one lazy woman, I know.

I have come to understand that He doesn’t deal with the matters of the heart that way. Because in dealing with everything that has to do with my heart attitude and beliefs, He leads me in a process — oftentimes a laborious one. And He requires my willing participation.

It’s the same when we pray to God to make us more obedient, or generous, or patient. He doesn’t put obedience, or generosity, or patience in a neat gift box and pass it down to us. Instead, He puts us in a situation where we are forced to flex our spiritual muscles and train our hearts to respond in the way we pray to. Because a healthy Christian walk doesn’t only involve feeding on the Word; there need be some spiritual workout.

And it means that whatever it is I want to practice in my life, I need to work it until it becomes part of who I am. There is a conscious decision and involvement.

It could be uncomfortable at times. Difficult. There’s plenty of unlearning, undoing, and breaking to be done until all wrong attitude and beliefs are exposed before God and myself. I’ve got to be far removed from where I used to be and what I used to do. There’s a great deal of inward activities going on, and if I truly desire real transformation, I have to resign myself to them.

Some days I want to throw in the towel. But I also begin to understand that discomfort and difficulty are what reshapes the attitude, develops the discipline, and makes the muscles firm.

In many cases, God doesn’t hand us down the miracles. That’s too easy on our end. He works us to be the miracle.

Dreaming again

I’ve got a dream — it’s big in scope. It’s grand in nature.

But I lost it. Or did it die?

All I know is that I woke up one day realizing I had lived my days just as they came.

Make no mistake, I am all for living life one day at a time. Isn’t that what the Israelites did on the desert? Relying on God for manna on a daily basis? Looking up to him as their cloud by day and their pillar of fire by night? Yet they still had their sights on the Promised Land, did they?

I didn’t, and I was alarmed at knowing this because it meant only one thing: I was just going through the motions of life, having no ropes to hold me in place. I lost my grasp of my dream, grew unexcited for my future. That’s dangerous, if you ask me.

I wanted to cry. And I did. My spirit did.

Because I know how it happened. And I know why it happened. Because my dream was big in scope and grand in nature. Because in the natural realm, it looked impossible. Because I didn’t seem to progress to just get a glimpse — just a glimpse! — of my dream.

And then one thing led to another. Discouraged, I opened my palm and let the dream fly away, flutter in the wind, and be blown far into obscurity.

Tragic.

One of the greatest tragedies is to give up your dream, and with it the anticipation of a future God designed even before he breathed life into you. Because to dream is to hope, and to hope is to live. A person who dreams is a person passionate to live, his appetite for attaining a quality life drives him to live intentionally. His hope wakes him to a new beginning every morning.

My dream is God’s dream too. He put the seed here in my heart. So when I lost the dream, God cried too.

I could sense His heartbreak because I myself was heartbroken. And then, with full knowledge of what I needed, He told me, “I’m restoring the dream.”

My spirit cried again — not out of dejection but of rejoicing. My God, who is the author of life, who speaks life to the dead, who calls nothing into being, is going to plant a new seed of dream again. I know my God, and He doesn’t stop at a job half-done. He will water my dream into full bloom and until it grows into every particle of my soul.

Sometimes it takes a brand new chance for us to see where we slipped, to have a real understanding of our roles. And in this, I know my role is to move myself into action. To continue walking toward the dream no matter how far it seems to me. To receive all the tools God is sending my way to keep the dream branching out. To protect it from the enemy that will snatch it and bully me into silence.

And the enemy will try his hardest to not only snatch but also kill our dreams, because he knows very well that our dreams have a special place in God’s plan. To see them triumph is the enemy’s loss.

I won’t allow him — or my faithlessness — to steal my victory. So I’m clasping my arms around my dream and never let it go. I’m letting hope to drench my spirit once again. My God, who also dreams for me, will watch it into fruition.

Restless

I’ve felt this before, and now I’m feeling it again. Will it ever end? The cycle?

My feet want to take a life of their own, want to drag me from out here and take me to a place I haven’t even seen. If I allow them, they could probably grow wings and fly me — hastily — to that place I have been wondering about but which I haven’t had the luxury to see.

My hands, my mind, my heart, my entire being seem to beg me to assent to it, as if they hold the knowledge that something’s waiting for me at the other end.

I call it the other end because I don’t know what it is. I have no name for it. Is it a literal destination? Figurative? Where is it? What does it look like? What do I have to do with it? And what does the Lord want me to accomplish for Him? The last question is important, because certainly I know it’s Him calling.

Fear and uncertainty linger. They chain my feet to the earth I’m standing on. But if I let go and take a step, will my feet land on a good ground? Will everything finally make sense?

But maybe at this point where I will go and what I shall do are irrelevant. Maybe at this point what I need to do is make a decision.

So finally, with total submission, I’m answering to the subtle — but sometimes hard — tug.  Genuinely, but not without fear, I am submitting myself to the call. Whatever that could mean for me, my life, the people I love.

This is to put an end to the restlessness. But for the most part, this is to express obedience.

Maybe at this point making the decision is more important than anything else. Maybe only after making that decision can I come to terms with the possible turn of events, and only then will I more openly accept that one day I will have to go.

Everything sounds cryptic, doesn’t it? It does, yes. Because everything remains a mystery at the moment. It seems like the answer rests under a large blanket and which will get uncovered at the proper time. Maybe I will finally have the answer after this. I’ll probably receive concrete instructions by then. And my road will fan out with a more defined outline.

In the meantime, I’m praying for direction and wisdom. Let His will be done, not mine.

I’ve got mail!

Since mid-March I’ve been meaning to blog about this. But I had to wait until June. That’s roughly three months. In my book, that’s a long time.

So here’s the story. I’ve got a letter from the past. (March, specifically.) Scheduled to arrive on my birthday. Written by myself.

It’s actually an e-mail. Though I would have wanted the classic handwritten, hand-delivered letter—receiving a letter you yourself penned and mailed to yourself and which you totally forgot about until the day it arrives would feel a heavenly surprise, wouldn’t it?—I couldn’t complain about receiving an e-mail from my past self. And I have FutureMe  to thank for.

Some things weren’t going smoothly when I wrote that letter. That’s in fact one reason I wrote to myself. To sort of breathe out. To organize my thoughts. To give myself some pep talk.

Turns out the letter did more than what I originally planned it to do.

Turns out when I was writing that letter, I was unknowingly setting myself up for some surprise.

I didn’t know then that the words from the past would reverberate loud and clear in the present, that they would rouse me to believe more, that they would talk to me with wisdom bred from suffering. Because even though they are layered with anxiety, they are not bereft of hope and faith.

“Let’s see.” You’ve used that phrase a lot these days. It only goes to show how clueless you are of the future. But that’s okay. Just keep believing God’s in control. It is this belief that got—and still gets—you through the night. Please continue to harbor it in your heart. Things are going to be better.

Things got better indeed. What a difference three months make! I feel grateful that as I read the letter, I am reminded that whatever situation we find ourselves in, it will always turn for the better down the road. Night always gives way to day. And the moment light stretches out from the sky, it brightens up everything it touches.  Always.

So yes, the letter made me one happy, hope-filled birthday.