Open Letter To The One Playing It Safe

I press the snow-mode button and bounce up packed snow and never-salted ice to the stop sign at the top of the hill. It strikes me that if any car can’t stop on the way down, they’ll smash into our house.

Decades-rusty experience driving in Minnesota weather does little for my confidence. I take a deep breath and turn left onto a less treacherous road. Ice-embalmed tree limbs shimmering in the sun breathe of magic. I’m entranced.

All the way to gymnastics, I mull it over. How there’s incredible beauty entwined in the bitter cold. How fear and awe can be interlaced. How danger and glory can dance.

I’m typically the one playing it safe. I minimize risk through research and reluctance. Control what I can and avoid the rest.

Perhaps it won’t surprise you that this is the first time in four days I’ve left my neighborhood. But the interstate is stunning. I’m heading into the sun, which accentuates the ice. I would have missed this ethereal wonderland if I didn’t brave the roads—just like I can miss the adventure God calls me to if I insist on playing it safe.

Just You Wait

Over and over, what I find true of God is that He calls us to tiptoe forward in trust. He’s more interested in obedience than outcomes.

Leave the impossible up to Me, He’ll whisper, His breath warm in your ear.

I imagine laughter in His eyes as He nudges you to take the next step.

Just you wait, He’ll grin as He joins you, matching your hesitant pace with steady sureness.

Footstep by footstep, He stays by your side. He’s always ready with exactly what you need. Not more, not less.

Inch by inch, your confidence grows–not in yourself, but in God’s consistency.

He’s the sort of God whose grace never runs out, who re-fills you until you spill over in gratitude, who pursues you with ceaseless love (Psalm 23:5-6). Who offers guidance throughout the entire journey (Psalm 48:14). Who “always does what is good for [you]” (Psalm 57:2, The Voice).

Even when there is ice beneath your car tires, God is your “solid ground”–your “rock and . . . fortress” (Psalm 71:3, The Voice)

He is:

Nearby Protection (Psalm 23:4)

Closer Than Trouble ((Psalm 46:1)

Urgency Evalutator (Psalm 67:19)

All-Seeing Savior (Psalm 69:5)

Arisen Majesty (Psalm 76:4)

Distress Dissolver (Psalm 81:7)

Expectancy Meeter (Psalm 81:10)

Sung-About Strength (Psalm 81:1)

Render of the Heavens (Psalm 83:1)

Trustworthy Shield (Psalm 84:11-12)

Counted-On Response (Psalm 86:7)

Needing God, Knowing God

The thing is, though, that until you’re in a situation outside your comfort zone you might find this a list of nice words. Until you need God you can’t really know Him.

Until you need God you can’t really know Him.(Twyla Franz)

Something changes when you face your uncertainty and follow God into the unknown. When you grapple with fear, and yet move forward instead of staying frozen in place. When you “[put] yourself with utter vulnerability in [God’s] hands,” as John Ortberg says. Only then do you know God by personal experience.

You’d never comprehend the timeliness of God’s kindness unless you stepped out on the line. Never understand the comfort of God’s closeness, or the unshakeable sense of peace that accompanies His presence, if you didn’t hand over the control.

I wonder if faith is not our hands off the wheel, as we’re apt to describe surrender, but ours beneath His. Feeling the cold of the steering wheel and the warmth of God’s hands over ours. Learning to replicate the movement of God’s eyes and His subtle touch on the wheel.

Maybe we’re missing the adventure part of faith, and we’re bored because we’re disengaged. And maybe we’re keeping God in a box because we’re playing it safe.

When I Want to Play it Safe, I Remember the Children

I might just be talking to myself. But if you feel a stirring to trust God with something specific, and it seems risky and you feel unready, stay with me.

I know this apprehension well. It felt crushing when I was a kid, spending a summer in New Zealand, entirely convinced God would send me somewhere far less comfortable and more challenging next. The mission organization we were with sent seven to nine thousand teenagers to over 40 different countries every year. Some teams, I knew, used shovels because there was no plumbing. Other teams sweated all summer. I was sure God would send me somewhere I didn’t want to go.

The thing is, He did send me somewhere without air conditioning or indoor plumbing–but by the time I had to select a trip on the application, I wanted to go.

Spreading PB&J with phone cards the first day we arrived in our village because we couldn’t find plastic utensils felt like an adventure. So did using the “squatty” and cooling an unfurnished apartment with a single, rotating fan. So did adopting a fourth grade class, teaching them English, and falling in love with them in the process.

The experience that initially petrified me left me with a picture I will never, ever forget: teary faces of children pressed against the glass wall at the airport.

Earlier that summer, a kid jumped off the back of a pick-up truck and cracked multiple teeth. He didn’t shed a tear, because it’s taboo to show emotion. But he was amongst the flock of children who ran a mile or two from the school to the airport to say a second goodbye. Although they hadn’t cried at the school, their faces were pools now. As were ours.

Today, when I find myself on the edge of a risk, I remember the children of Mae Hong Son. I think of what I would have missed had I never gone. How differently I know God because of this hands-on experience.

Weightier Than The Work

For the risk-adverse, like me, the anticipation feels weightier than the work. That’s why I’m so big on baby steps. They make the first step less intimidating, and that’s often the biggest hurdle.

Friend, no matter what unknown God may be nudging you toward, this you can know without question: the God who knows you inside and out isn’t asking you to be brave without Him, but with Him by your side.

Let’s pray.

Jesus, we invite you to ignite a passion in our hearts. Your missional heart always reaches toward people. Would You show us how to respond to those right in front of us? In Your name, Jesus, we pray. Amen.

Just a friend over here in your corner,

What if you gave your faith the chance to ripple right into your neighborhood? These quick tips provide a wide variety of baby steps to help you begin to build friendships with your neighbors. When we get close to God and let others get close to us, the things God is working out in us can show.