“Sometimes when we are called to obey, the fear does not subside and we are expected to move against the fear.  One must choose to do it afraid.” —Elisabeth Elliot

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.” —Psalm 56:3

I have been a person who is, at times, full of confidence—on the surface.  If I ever appeared collected, cucumber cool in the corner, it was, almost always, a cover.  I have always had a simmer pot of fear going strong in the corner of my heart.  At times, the atmosphere in my mind was cloudy with more “what ifs” than “even ifs” (Dan. 3:18).  This had been one of the main things that has kept me from doing brave things.  Someone who has conquered this failing fear, who doesn’t clam up when talking above the rest, who kind of maybe relishes the adrenaline of the unknown—that is the one God would use. 

And, it wasn’t going to be me.  

Then I read the Bible.  I found myself there.  I saw my human inadequacies in Abraham and Sarah, with their bodies as good as dead, bringing life into the world.  I saw my fear of man and how I can’t command a room, in Moses’ excuses and pleas to God to “find someone else”.  I saw Gideon, threshing wheat in a hole out of self preservation, looking at the LORD with so much in his mind telling him “how can God be good here in this forgotten place?”.  I see warrior David, cowered in a cave with all the other misfits, the king of the broken being chased by an enemy who should have loved him better.  There is Elijah, pleading for death under a tree, after the fight became too much for him to bear.  I see Daniel in a lions den, Isaiah near death in a vision of the throne room, Jeremiah exhausted and ignored, Mary quaking on her knees before an angel, Peter telling Jesus to “go, because You don’t belong with someone like me.”  I see them all.

Each of these, all of them, weren’t very brave.  Sure, they did brave things, but they were all inadequate for the task.  When the LORD came to them, not one of them was qualified.  They had no talent or skill to complete the call.  They were struck with fear, and it was physical and real.  

God has never looked on one of His children and considered their fearfulness something to disqualify them.  Not once.  In fact, He saw, He assured them with what was true, and He pressed in and on.  

Fear is the start of every call of God.  Fear of the Lord, surely. ( Ps. 111:10).  And then there is the heart gripping, humanity that wrenches our insides.  God, I can’t do this: 

I am too…. 

I don’t have…

What if…

I can’t even…

He knows and that is why.  This is what makes our faith more than just us living and dying and finishing a task.  God is always doing more in us than we can see when we fearfully follow Him.  He accomplishes the goal, sure—and then we look back at all the impossible things we did scared out of our minds, seeing that it was Him who worked and willed.  It is in that moment that we will know that God is good, and that His kingdom coming is happening among those with sweaty palms and shaky voices.  Even masked, even in the most confident preacher or lay leader, we are all afraid of what only God can do, as we should be.  We only get into trouble when we see the fear  as bigger than God.  That is something has that kept me sitting still and wishing to be useful.  But, you see, I already had everything needed to be used by God.  Just like all the saints before, the emptiest hands.    

Here I bring my petition.

Father God, Oh King of the Universe, in you we have strong confidence, in You is all our refuge (Proverbs 14:26).

We come with our empty hands, with our broken pots, with our inability to create or clean up anything inside of us.  We are always in a state of lack without you.  And so it is with what you are calling each one of us up to.

We “cannot” because it is our only option apart from Your Righteousness, Your Spirit, Your Mercy.  Without You in any endeavor, we simply—cannot.  This is a fearful place to be.  Like the child at the foot of Everest.  You call us to climb.  Our feet aren’t able, our lungs cannot handle the load, our backs are bent and can carry little to nothing.  Our hearts?  Our hearts are melting before the immense task.  Our minds are screaming, “You must be kidding?”

Oh LORD, Great God of our hearts and minds, and backs and feet—You are not kidding.  You haven’t made a mistake when you pointed at us.  Really, us?  

Yes, you. 

We confess the fear is enough to break us.  We tremble at mans opinion, at the long list of to-do’s, at the many miracles needed to pull this off.  And if we let this fear rule us, we will find our backs turned and far from you.  In disobedience we will wither without your call.  We may have comfort, but at what cost?  We may have a safe place, but for how long before even that space is filled with anxious thoughts?  There we will live lives that are managed by us alone.  There we will know no great things.  

LORD, keep us from that place.  Remind us that even though we may feel afraid and uncomfortable with whatever you are calling us to—it is a far better thing to know just how big you are in comparison to Everest.  It sinks in the palm of your hand.  All our fears, every single one, are mustard seeds.  Here you are making them somehow grow in Your soil.  They make a home for birds, and shady shelter for the weak in spirit.  

Praise Your Holy Name—You are the God who makes life spring up in the Valley of Fear and Death!

Here, right here, and in us, even us—this is where your kingdom comes!  How amazing are your works, Oh LORD!  (Psalm 92:5).  I can see and know them full well!  You see who we truly are, wretched without you.  You come to us, in this state, and you look us in the eye, declaring, “Do it afraid my love”.  

And we can.  Because it is really You working and moving in us to accomplish this great work of Love, right here, in this land of living and dying.  It is You going before and behind.  We look to the left, quaking, and You steady us.  We gaze to the right, unsure, and there You are.  Our Sure Stronghold.  We don’t have this, whatever it may be—it is beyond us.  But, You are beyond all we have known or can know.  You dwell there, in brilliant light, glory masked to preserve our beating hearts, yet sharing it with us in these moments.   When we take a step of anchored hope forward.  And then another. 

Here is all goodness.  Here is our purpose in this life.  To hear You call to us, in our own individual messy places, and instead of scolding us, You tell us to climb higher.  Even if we are stilled in fright, just move.  

LORD, as we talk to our neighbors about Your finished work of salvation, help us.

As we say yes to serve in a ministry or with people unlike what we are use to.  Unlike what comes natural to us, help us.  As we stand for life and truth in this blind and backward place, as we are shut down and ridiculed, help us.  As we love a child or family member who is far from you, as we bear with them showing them a glimpse of Your Steadfast Heart, help us.  As we hear of sickness and see the waste in our own families and friends, in our own bodies that are rebelling against this sinful world, help us.  As we go, to foreign places, to governments who hate Our Lord and hate Our Love, help us.  

Help us to do it afraid, Sweet LORD.

Help us to remember that Christ came to this scary place, and in his humanity, sweat drops of blood and tears of shaking fear—but chose to love Your Will above any moment of relief or comfort.  These will come in a time and place where fear isn’t invited.  

We look to that Home and to You. 

In You alone is all our Courage.  In You alone we can Endure.  Thank you for these times where we feel the fear, and can know that You are worth it.  That You are able to compete every good work even as we tremble.

In the Name of Him who accomplished all I could not, and then gave it to me—Full Salvation.  In Him who is able to do more in my weak heart than I could in a million safe lifetimes, Jesus Christ, our LORD.

Amen.