If only I had answered her question right away, the response would’ve been… different. It would’ve been short and sweet. It would’ve likely propositioned a smile from her lips. But time has stilted my reply; the words to appropriately express the state of my heart are – at best – defiant to simplicity.
I’ve been grappling with the idea of leaving everything I know and love behind. I’ve been struggling with the reality of giving up the comfortable lifestyle I have right now. Struggling with selfishness. Struggling with my American roots that are counter to a Gospel that deserves nothing less than total self-abandonment. Struggling to let go of a tantalizing life that’s transient compared to the eternity that awaits me.
I know, during the Race, I’m going to encounter things that will rip me to pieces emotionally, spiritually and physically. I know I’m going to be steeped in discomfort. I know I’m going to buckle in complete brokenness by what’s to come. But I also know that I’ll experience and witness things that are simply extraordinary and life giving – things that my current life could never permit or embrace. On one hand, my heart aches for what’s ahead, on another hand it burns with excitement and passion. But lately, the aching has stifled the fire.
To be quite honest, I feel like I’m standing out in the open, in the midst of a sadistic storm, blind folded and confused…. only knowing that a cliff beckons from a distance. While every bad urge I’ve ever had is bubbling up in my heart like the rekindling of an ugly romance, I’ve been desperately trying to grip onto something, anything of comfort and security to keep from getting pushed and blown off that cliff. Yet, I know I have to let go… I know I have to embrace the fall. It scares the hell out of me. And yet there’s a smaller, quieter part of me that wants to run full speed toward that cliff – that wants to leap into the unknown – just to get it over with.
The turmoil in my heart is like a violent dance… like the climax of a ballet when good and evil come face to face… both beautiful and horrific. It's like being torn in two… piece by piece… but slowly. Losing one life while gaining another.
And the urge to cling to comfort is almost too strong to resist. It’s like a drug I crave; the detox is pure hell. I want to give in to an easy, safe life. I want to hide from the challenges ahead – to settle for the slumber of a mediocre Christianity. I want to run back to the peaceful coma of yesterday’s “ordinary”. Yet I want to be strong. I want to behold the extraordinary… that lies in the wake of a life of abandonment. I want to be courageous and daring. Between these two margins, my heart struggles.
I remember when I was just a 4-year-old child an older kid bullied my big brother. Without thought, in all my naivety and fearlessness with hands on hips, I belted out, "Don't you pick on my big brother!" I’ve always had a bit of a fire inside me – a fire for the cause of the underdog – a heart for the “loser”. But right now, I’m wondering what’s happened to the fiery gal who would never back down. What’s happened to the raw courage I knew at such a young age?
Even though I could easily dismiss it as a toss with logic, lately, I’ve been nothing more than a coward… especially in light of what’s been given to me (Luke 12:48).
As a Christian, I’m called to fight. I’m called to take a stand — for the poor and the oppressed — with a style that speaks boldly of love and humility. I’m called to put on the full armor of God – the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit (Ephesians 6). I’m called to be an ambassador of Christ.
Please understand – I desperately want to stop reducing the grace upon which I “live” to the value of a cheap, cigarette-stained, one-night stand. Because giving anything other than my “all” is doing just that. But indeed, I am just a coward…
Yet in giving it all over to Jesus, I feel the fire beginning to burn again…. I feel His strength pulsing through me. I feel the ease of His yoke. And above the murmuring desires of my own heart, I hear the urgent call of the desperate needs of this broken world – to be for it, not of it! I feel the craving to take action on behalf of those who suffer in ways I can’t even begin to fathom. I feel bold and fierce. I feel like a Christian badass.
And my heart cries out – “Fight, girl, fight; love, girl, LOVE! Your Savior upholds you! Victory is ours!”
