I walk into a room of 500 dining women waiting for someone to take the stage and my fear isn’t speaking in front of these women.
It’s eating with them.
I don’t know where I’m going to sit. My hands are sweaty, my heart is pounding like the rain on the window.
And my fear is a brewing storm.
Yet, I keep dancing with it.
Being fearless is temporary. At some point, something in our life triggers fear. What if my husband has a wreck driving home in this storm? What if those test results come back positive? What if I can’t pay that bill? The what ifs open the door to fear.
Dancing with fear is seeing the world as it is and then wisely stepping out into the unknown anyway.
It’s slowing sitting down among strangers, instead of running from that vast dining room to the safety of storm outside.
I love safety and comfort.
Which is why it’s sort of crazy that God has called me to a dangerous life of wild obedience.
But saying yes to God doesn’t make me brave because I’m still afraid; it makes me obedient.