Boldness

“I can’t do it!” I hoarsely cried as I stood on the twenty-foot telephone pole. I told myself on the climb up that I could do it because of the safety equipment securely holding me. Yet now as I stood on the foot-by-foot platform at the top of the pole, which seemed to be wobbling like an inflatable waving man you see at gas stations, I could not get myself to jump.  

“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.” (2 Timothy 1:7) In life I’ve learned to overcome the fear of heights, change, loss, and death, yet there still remains an ever-present fear that has made its nest deep inside like a stubborn weed. Like no other, the fear of rejection has often strangled my trust in my Heavenly Father. For fun, my family and I once took a personality test known as the enneagram, which labeled me as a four. As a general rule, I try not to take seriously the labels and categories created by such tests, but this time I couldn’t help but really hear the statement, “Fours believe there is something ultimately wrong with them as if they are missing something that everyone else has.” That was it, at least what I thought was the stem of my people-pleasing brain and fear of rejection-oriented heart. If I were to experience rejection from someone, it would mean that I was indeed missing something everyone had. 

During my second and third years in college, I found some freedom from this bondage by growing confidence both in myself and Christ, yet there remained still a shadow of fear. I knew it remained because of the limitless wall of evangelism which seemed to stand between myself and God. I was hurdling practically every obstacle in my walk with God, except trust. Often I would hear the little whisper from God telling me to speak or pray with someone, yet because of my fear of rejection, I would fail to act. My fear would prod my mind to think to the point of doubt as if I were on the ten-meter refusing to dive. I felt like the rich ruler in Luke 18 who had done everything God commanded yet failed to truly follow Jesus because of an inability to overcome just one obstacle. The ruler's wealth was equivalent to my fear. Time and time again I would ask God to allow me greater faith, trust, and reliance on the Spirit. But every time he gave me opportunities to exercise, I would fail; I would refuse to obey.

Two days ago I was on a train from Nurnberg to Augsburg Germany and I heard again the quiet whisper to speak to a woman on the train. Like one amidst a morning coffee-making routine, I pressed the grind button to drown out the whisper with noisy thoughts, allowed the fear to slowly drip into my heart, and drank the bitter taste of disobedience. Like caffeine, the bitter drink of ignoring the voice allowed me the energy to get past the moment before later bringing on the tired fatigue of despair. It was as if I was once again in the kid's camp in Tennessee standing on the pole refusing to jump. A day later I was sitting in bed on my phone when I found a short video about not being timid but bold in Christ. In that moment I laughed as I once again heard God’s voice telling me to trust him. Yet deep down I was afraid, I was afraid because I knew I had to ask God once more to give me another chance to obey. After praying for a bold mind and a trusting heart, I asked God slowly with a voice like a child asking a parent for something they didn’t really want, that he would give me another opportunity on the train to Vienna the next day. I knew the opportunity was going to come but I also knew that my current confidence would dissipate in the moment. Today as I found a seat on the train, I completely forgot about my request for a while. Then out of nowhere I looked to my right and saw a man on the other side of the train car. He was wearing a motorcycle jacket looking out his window and the seat next to him was open. He wasn’t on his phone, wasn't listening to music, wasn't reading, nothing, so I considered him to be the one. But like standing atop my pole, I was afraid. I prayed and asked God to give me strength and even went to Spotify to find a hype song. I found it funny that “Set a Fire” was already half played through as I opened the app. During the few minutes of the song, I went through a battle that’s hard to explain. I was at a bifurcation point where I was either going to finally win, or continue my life of fear. When the song ended I said, “Okay Lord,” picked up my backpack, and was about to get up when a man walked into the aisle from the previous stop and asked if he could sit next to me. It was like Abraham about to sacrifice his son before being interrupted by the Angel. I knew then that this man was the one I was supposed to talk to as the entire front half of the train car had accessible seats available and the man had no reason to sit next to me. After asking the man where he was headed, a conversation sparked and lasted until I had to get off an hour later. I didn’t feel the need to share the gospel or to shove Jesus in his face, rather, I knew that I was just supposed to talk to him. I slipped Jesus in shortly before getting off and he asked me if he could add me on LinkedIn. As I left the train, I knew I had finally won. I had finally obeyed and won a battle. It didn’t mean I was done or even close to winning the war against my fear. But it did mean I could.