I fear the tipping point when dreams placed within me become less about Him and more about me. Because I’ve seen it happen. I know it’s ugly. I fear that the very makeup and fibers of my being are wrung tight and prone to catapult and tip lopsided and I sway under the searching of my heart. I want it clean but know the pain of having it scoured by Him.
I fear the times when I shrink back from His voice because the call costs too much, because if I step out, I am not promised success. I am not promised results and I want to hold fruit in my hands, ripe and grown and behold ground tilled and fertile and feel the callous of my work-worn hands that testify to my faithfulness.
I fear my heart is deceitful above all else and it doesn’t wrestle so hard with flesh when it just gives in. And we all want to give in sometimes.
A lulled apathy captures hearts that don’t care, covering like thick film and making hazy the scorching light of truth that cauterizes every wicked nonchalance.
This apathy lives in striking contrast to the fervent striving that comes with a passionate heart, pulsing furiously and always wanting to be the champion. The heart of a fighter, undisciplined and bloodthirsty.
How I vacillate between the two. I am both slumberer and fighter. I am always scrambling for constancy. For wisdom.
I fear myself.
My chief of sinners heart. Pride and insecurity laying traps along the way.
Lord, give me just enough, not too much that I turn to glorify myself, not so little that I despair, but just enough that I will need you to sustain me in everything.
Because that is my fear, that I will attempt to do it alone.
I fear I will think my results matter and not my refinement.
I fear what I produce is more important that what I practice.
I fear if I come up empty or grasping, He has failed me.
I fear that I may work and see no fruit or harvest in this lifetime. That in chasing God sized dreams, I have to awaken to the possibility that what He purposes is good. That what He wants is faithfulness and sometimes faithfulness looks like long-suffering. Sometimes faithfulness looks like incredible perseverance and patience.
Sometimes faithfulness looks a lot like mediocrity and the mundane drone of living your life well and on purpose. Sometimes it looks like ordinary.
Because sometimes I fear I want the harvest, a bounty of evidence that what I do matters, but I don’t want to labor in faithfulness.
Sometimes I fear myself.
I’m linking up with Holley Gerth and her dream team in pursuing God sized Dreams together. This weeks prompt was: What’s one fear you’ve encountered on the way to your God-sized dream? And what’s the truth that’s bigger than that fear?