I’m in a kind of crazy season right now, surprising in so many ways. Such a different crazy than I’m used to: the little kid life-in-the-trenches crazy used to be my jam. It was that round-the-clock crazy of feeding and diapering and wiping.
Now I find myself with scheduling conflicts, speaking prep, deadlines, and the slow (albeit steady) inching of the book project of my heart. Not that all the rest has gone away, it hasn’t, but somehow these little souls I get to steward are inching toward independence. My baby, three years old now, buckled himself into his car seat this week and exclaimed, “Mommy, watch and be AMAZED!”
And I am, truly. Amazed.
As I run around trying to keep some order to the chaos, beating myself up for being reactionary instead of intentional, I am amazed at how right this feels even as I struggle to keep up.
After wine and catching up on all-the-things, her talking weddings and I talking work, my best friend pointed that I have a career now. That feels like a rather generous term, but it hadn’t crossed my mind. She’s getting married and I have a career? Amazing.
Then all the fear and all the anxiety stomps in, in boots too big to fill, reminding me that it could all be gone in a moment. Anxiety squeezes my chest and whispers sweet what-if’s: what if you’re not good enough, what if xyz trauma happens to your kids because you’re failing them, what if you’re just spinning your wheels and getting nowhere, what if you drop the ball? Fear bullies me, pushing on all my soft places: my hope punched by disappointment, my trembling joy right-hooked with comparison, and my bright aspirations overshadowed by the unknown darkness looming just out of sight.
As I’m making my way chronologically through the Bible, I’ve found myself strangely obsessing over King Saul.
I see him hiding among the baggage when they want to make him king and I think, “I see you. I get that.” I watch him paralyzed with fear listening to Goliath rage and I think, “That IS terrifying: facing giants.” I see him impatient and going through the motions, doing the right things for all the wrong reasons and I wonder if I will fail the same way. I see his reactionary, fear-based leadership and I see the darkest dark parts of my heart.
Then God abandons him and I am terrified.
“Don’t leave me, God. Please be near me,” I beg. I will be better. I will be brave. Or at least I will try to be less scared.
“Why do you think I will treat you like Saul?” The Spirit asks me over and over.
It’s because of my fear. I’m afraid my fear disqualifies me. I’m afraid of being afraid. I always think of the boy in the movie My Girl who is allergic to everything. I am afraid of everything. I’m afraid of being uncomfortable and too comfortable, the unknown and known, of being too happy or winding up miserable, complacency and overworking, all change and nothing ever changing, real things and imaginary things.
“I will never leave you or forsake you,” He promises.
“But, what if You do? You left Saul,” I push back.
“Saul did not have a heart after my own.”
Herein lies the difference and He’s got a point. Saul’s fear spiritually crippled him. His paranoia kept him from community, his comparison kept him from relationship, his immaturity in leadership led him to overcompensate. He did not love the Lord with all his heart, soul, mind, and strength.
Neither do I, but I am willing.
I have learned by Saul’s example what not to do. How not to succumb to a violent end of a once-promising life. It’s all laid out in 1 Samuel for all the world to see: fear disfigures, making God-in-us unrecognizable.
David’s story provides sharp contrast, but not because of his courage. He wept, he was fearful, too. But David was willing. Reading chronologically, I wonder how many of the brave, boasting Psalms he wrote from this period might be a smidge of overcompensation. Perhaps he did what I do in my journal when I claim bold truths I know, but must learn to trust.
It’s comforting to think that though I am exhorted to be courageous, and maybe I’ll grow into it someday, there’s still a whole lot God can do with willing. I am willing to move forward even as I actively shout down my fear of inadequacy, of failure, of success, of all the rest. Where Saul confirms fear leads nowhere I want to be found, David affirms being found leads through fear.
So I move forward into this new, fast-paced season trembling but willing. I’m grateful the Lord willingly works with the ill-equipped, the passed-over, the lowly shepherd, the outcast, the fearful, and the meek. He calls them chosen and precious. He says that there is nothing to fear, because when we are weak He is strong. He promises to see to completion the good work He has started in us.
He calls us to watch and be amazed!