- It will be cold.
- It’s going to be really crowded.
- Someone is probably going to get hurt… almost for sure.
- You’re going to freeze… you don’t really need all those fingers and toes, right?
- There is basically only a thin sheet of plastic between your carcass and a frozen hill of packed ice. That can’t be comfortable.
- Have you thought about how cold it will be?
There are all kinds of reasons to stay home on a snow day under a blanket on your nice, warm couch.
Don’t listen to reason all the time.
Take them anyway.
I’ve been re-reading An Unstoppable Force. It’s a wonderfully dangerous book and one of my favorites for 15 years! This line stuck out to me again this morning:
Sometimes, I forget this and think I have to have all the answers pulled together before I can invite someone into the question. But following Jesus and leading the church God’s way often means I only get to see the next step. Sometimes not even that! Sometimes I have to take the step God’s telling me to take before I can even see where my foot will fall.
It’s a little unnerving to be honest. It requires something to be developed within me that allows me to overcome the logic that says “stay put in the safety of what you already know…” It requires something to grow in me to break me free from the gravity of the solid and tangible… It requires a confidence in what I can’t see and a certainty in what I hope…
It requires faith.
And so, I step into the mist. Not because I’m brave or possess abnormal levels of courage. Not because I’m a super-spiritual answer man. Not because I know everything will turn up roses and sunshine. But because He stepped forward and I want to stay with Him. He is on the move and I want to keep with Him. So I step into the mist.
Want to go for a walk?
Why am I hiding?
What have I to fear?
My words, when kept deep within,
tear at my soul to find their way out,
gasping for a precious breath of life.
These invaluable words are not meant to be buried
and I don’t want to become the wicked, lazy
bury-er of what God has planted.
Their power to hurt is mitigated, sure,
but so is their power to heal, to stretch, to grow…
Their life-giving breeze is stifled within
when kept below the surface and kept away from the crowds.
“Out loud” is where they belong,
free to voice dreams and right wrongs,
free to run into stories and songs.
And when it really is Your breath in my lungs
there is no greater praise I posses to pour out
than to tell the story You’re writing.
To tell it well.
And to tell is whole.
And to tell it always.