I am afraid.

There are times I do not like admitting that.

Fear feels like something I am supposed to have outgrown by now.

I have lived long enough to know better. I have survived hard things. I have seen prayers answered. I have watched God carry me through seasons I was certain would break me.

And still, I get afraid.

Sometimes I am afraid of what might happen.

Sometimes I am afraid of what will not happen.

I am afraid of losing people I love.

I am afraid of making the wrong decision and discovering too late that I cannot undo it.

I am afraid of spending years building something that never becomes what I believed it could be.

I am afraid of doors closing.

I am afraid of being misunderstood.

I am afraid of failing people who depend on me.

And if I am completely truthful, there are moments when I am afraid that I have mistaken my own hopes for God's direction.

That one gets quiet.

Because I know how easy it is to want something badly enough that every open door begins to look like confirmation.

I have prayed, “Lord, lead me.”

But sometimes what I really meant was, “Lord, lead me where I already want to go.”

That scares me.

I want to know that I am hearing Him.

I want certainty.

I want a clear road.

I want God to tell me where this ends before I take the next step.

Most of the time He does not.

And I do not like that.

There are nights when my mind starts building futures that have not happened.

One problem becomes ten.

One unanswered question becomes a disaster.

One silence becomes rejection.

One delay becomes proof that everything is falling apart.

Fear is good at that.

It takes what I do not know and fills in the blank for me.

Usually with the worst possible answer.

I can be lying in bed in a safe room, surrounded by people I love, and still be fighting something that does not even exist yet.

That is what fear can do.

It makes tomorrow feel present.

I have spent energy grieving things that never happened.

I have rehearsed conversations nobody ever had with me.

I have defended myself against accusations nobody made.

I have prepared for endings that never came.

And every time, my body responded as though all of it were real.

“Maybe courage was never supposed to mean that I stopped feeling fear. Maybe courage is what happens when fear does not get to make the decision.”

I wish faith made that disappear.

Sometimes it does not.

Sometimes I pray and I am still afraid.

Sometimes I know exactly what Scripture says and my stomach still turns.

Sometimes I believe God is with me and still wish He would tell me what is going to happen.

I am beginning to understand that fear and faith can occupy the same moment.

I can trust God and still be scared.

I can obey while my hands are shaking.

I can take the next step without knowing whether I will like where it leads.

Maybe courage was never supposed to mean that I stopped feeling fear.

Maybe courage is what happens when fear does not get to make the decision.

That is harder.

Because fear can sound reasonable.

Be careful.

Wait a little longer.

Do not say anything yet.

Do not try unless you know you will succeed.

Do not trust that person.

Do not risk being embarrassed.

Do not hope too much because you know what disappointment feels like.

Fear rarely tells me to quit all at once.

It usually asks me to become smaller.

A little quieter.

A little safer.

A little less willing to try.

And if I listen long enough, I can call that wisdom.

I can even call it peace.

But I know the difference.

Peace can tell me to wait.

Fear tells me I cannot move.

Peace can tell me no.

Fear tells me what might happen if I ever dare to say yes.

There are things I have delayed because I was afraid.

Conversations I should have had sooner.

Questions I should have asked.

Doors I should have knocked on.

People I should have trusted.

Risks I should have taken.

And there are probably things I avoided for good reason too.

I do not always know the difference immediately.

That is why I need God.

Not merely to remove fear.

I need Him to keep fear from becoming my counselor.

Because fear has advice for everything.

It tells me how much I should risk.

Who I should trust.

What I should say.

How much of myself I should show.

Whether I should begin.

Whether I should stay.

Whether I should leave.

Fear always has an opinion.

And I have listened to it more often than I want to admit.

But when I look backward, some of the most important things in my life required me to do something while I was afraid.

I did not suddenly become fearless.

I moved anyway.

That matters to me now.

Because there are still things in front of me that frighten me.

I do not know exactly how they will turn out.

I do not know who will stay.

I do not know which plans will work.

I do not know how many times I will have to begin again.

I do not know what I may lose along the way.

“So when I say I trust God, I cannot mean, ‘I trust God because He will prevent everything I am afraid of.’ I have to mean something deeper.”

I know enough about life now to understand that some of the things I fear could actually happen.

Faith does not require me to pretend otherwise.

People die.

Relationships end.

Plans fail.

Bodies grow tired.

Money disappears.

People disappoint us.

Sometimes the answer to prayer is not the answer we wanted.

I know that.

So when I say I trust God, I cannot mean, “I trust God because He will prevent everything I am afraid of.”

I have to mean something deeper.

I trust Him even if the road hurts.

I trust Him even if I lose something.

I trust Him even if I have to start again.

I trust Him even if I do not understand why He allowed something I begged Him to stop.

That kind of trust costs more.

But it is real.

I am afraid.

I am not ashamed to say it anymore.

There are things in front of me bigger than I am.

There are questions I cannot answer.

There are outcomes I cannot control.

There are people I cannot protect forever.

There are parts of my future I simply cannot see.

So I will probably be afraid again tomorrow.

But tomorrow is not here yet.

Today is.

And today I can pray.

Today I can listen.

Today I can make the decision in front of me.

Today I can tell the truth.

Today I can take one step without demanding that God show me the next twenty.

And when fear starts telling me everything that could go wrong, I can remind myself of something it always leaves out.

God will still be there.

Whatever happens next, I will not arrive there before Him.

That does not answer every question.

It does not make me fearless.

But it gives me somewhere to put the fear.

So yes.
I am afraid.But I am still going.