Have you ever sensed God calling you out of your comfy boat to walk the waves beyond? Did you do it? Did you try and then sink like Peter? Or is fear holding you back from even stepping out? What’s keeping you from walking on water? Maybe you still haven’t figured out how to get your boat out of the harbor. I have days like that. I’m right there with you!
I haven’t blogged much lately because I’ve been working hard on my book. I joined a program in November to finish the whole book in 90 days. It was a great course and I learned so much, but I didn’t get mine finished by the 90-day mark. (Enter feelings of guilt and failure)
Things happened that slowed me down. There was Christmas break, and a new volunteer position, and the homeschool co-op . . . in short, life happened. Not only that but in the course of fleshing out the message I wanted to share, my book grew into a trilogy. (Enter excuses and interruptions)
More than all the little surface things I use as excuses for not getting my book done is the internal resistance I feel about completing the project. When I get honest with myself, I realize that part of me is stalling, holding back, cringing at the thought actually publishing my thoughts and putting it out there for the world to read.
Suddenly, what I thought sounded like a great idea to pass on helpful information has become more like walking across a stage without enough clothes on to keep me comfortable. Yeah, I’m not so eager to get out of my boat after all. (Enter reluctance and fear)
I completed my manuscript fairly quickly using the writing methods I learned, but I’ve been stuck in the doldrums of editing for quite some time. Editing is painful and uncomfortable. I have to go back and reread everything I wrote and realize I’m not as cool as I thought I was. (Enter insecurities and self-doubt)
It’s kind of like watching myself on video or listening to my weird voice on a message or looking at an unflattering picture of myself. I would prefer to keep the image in my head of what I thought I looked and sounded like rather than face the reality of me. My book sounded much better to me the first time around.
When I first started writing, I was afraid no one would ever want to read what I wrote. Now I’m afraid someone might actually read what I wrote. I’m considering options for pen names.
But as I circle around all the possible ways to avoid potential embarrassment, I keep bumping into the fact that I’m not only doing what I want to do, but I’m doing what I feel God has called me to do.
The problem is that I’m afraid to get out of the darn boat.
[tweetthis hidden_hashtags=”#walkonwater”]Is fear preventing you from walking on water?[/tweetthis]
There He stands upon the waters. I’ve heard His call, and yet, . . .
I’m still in my boat, stalling making endless preparations, wanting to feel ready, striving to be perfect, and hoping I won’t sink. Here I sit, waiting for the wind to die down and the waves to still, watching with admiration those who’ve dared to step out of the boat ahead of me.
But Jesus is calling me now, so I have to answer Him now—when I’m not ready, glaringly imperfect and totally freaked out.
Truthfully, deep inside I know I will never feel ready or be perfect and as soon as this wave calms, the next one will be right behind it.
So I put my trembling hands on the edge of the boat and drag one leg over the side. It feels like it weighs a ton and I am already exhausted from that small effort alone.
The boat feels so much safer. It’s familiar. I’m comfortable here. Part of me doesn’t want to leave my boat. Why can’t I just fish from where I am, Jesus?
[tweetthis hidden_hashtags=”#walkonwater”]Why can’t I just fish from where I am, Jesus?[/tweetthis]
But there’s a deeper part of me that craves a holy adventure, the part of me that asks,
“What is possible if I trust The One Who Calls Me?”
“What will I miss out on if I refuse?”
So I will step out, not because I have confidence in myself. I am nothing.
But because I have God-fidence in what Jesus is capable of accomplishing through me when I yield myself to Him. He is everything.
As I begin to lift my other leg over the edge of the boat, I’m aware that I’ve got to keep my eyes on Jesus. Poor Peter sank beneath the waves because he focused on the obstacles instead his Savior. I must make a deliberate effort not to make that same mistake.
I must resolve now, even before I step out, to take my eyes off what others think of me. I’ve got to refuse to listen to my own excuses, insecurities, and inadequacies and keep my eyes fixed on Jesus instead.
I see Him standing some distance away with outstretched arms and an encouraging smile, patiently waiting for me to swallow hard and step over the edge into the unknown, uncomfortable and unfamiliar.
[tweetthis hidden_hashtags=”#walkonwater”]Are you ready for a holy adventure?[/tweetthis]
Do you remember how you felt when your toddler was poised to take that first step?
That’s how Jesus feels about us.
When your child took a tumble what did you do?
Jesus does the same. When we mess up, Jesus isn’t spring-loaded to sternly scold us for not getting it right. He’s eager to celebrate our growth and progress and wrap us in warm hugs of encouragement.
He’s not focused on our fall. He’s full of joy at the steps we took before the fall and He’s anticipating the steps He knows we’ll take next after we get back up.
[tweetthis hidden_hashtags=”#walkonwater”]Jesus celebrates our baby steps.[/tweetthis]
When I step out and do something new and unknown for Jesus, here’s what will happen.
I will fall.
I will blunder.
I will embarrass myself at least once, probably more.
I will probably be misunderstood and unintentionally offend people.
I will be judged.
I may be ridiculed.
I might even be condemned by some who are opposed to my message.
My pride will most certainly be crucified.
And that’s okay.
Jesus was ridiculed, misunderstood, mocked, falsely accused, judged harshly, stripped down, and beaten up because He loved me too much leave me unrescued.
He is asking me to do so much less for Him. How can I say no?
Let me be thought a fool for following my Savior. That is a small price to pay in the scope of Eternity.
[tweetthis hidden_hashtags=”#walkonwater”]Let me be thought a fool for following my Savior.[/tweetthis]
Here’s what else will happen:
Jesus will meet me.
He will provide for me.
He will protect me.
He will encourage me.
He will fill me.
He will sustain me.
He will stretch me.
He will grow me.
He will always love me, no matter how clumsy or awkward I am.
Jesus will celebrate my innocent mistakes, not because I stumbled, but because I learned. I will only fail if I refuse to rise up again after I falter and face-plant.
[tweetthis hidden_hashtags=”#walkonwater”]I will only fail if I refuse to rise up again after I fall.[/tweetthis]
I was praying through my prayer guide this morning and when I got to the listening part, this is what I sensed:
“Don’t be afraid to pass on what I’ve given to you. That’s exactly why I gave it to you—not so you would hoard it for yourself, but so you could share it. There are hurting, broken people who need to hear what you’ve learned and they need to hear it from you. No one else can tell your story.”
I’m left to wonder who out there may be continuing to wander through suffering and doubt while I drag my feet because I’m afraid of a little transparency. Forgive me.
My whole motivation for writing this book in the first place was so others would not feel as lost and alone in their trials as I did. The longer I wait to finish my book, the longer the people who need this message feel hopeless and abandoned. I owe it to them to finish what I set out to do.
What about you?
Where is Jesus calling you to step out in faith?
He’s calling you somewhere. Every last one of us was created for a purpose and you are no exception. If you don’t know your purpose, ask Him to show you. Then pay close attention to what happens next.
He wants you to live like you were meant to live even more than you do! Trust Him to show you the way.
[tweetthis hidden_hashtags=”#walkonwater”]Jesus wants you to live like you were meant to live.[/tweetthis]
Don’t leave your boat tied safely to the dock called “My Comfort Zone”. You won’t catch any fish there. You have to untie yourself and set off.
Get out of the harbor called “What I Know” and venture out to the great sea beyond. That’s where the real living happens!
Boats weren’t made to be tied to docks. They were made to carry us to places we can’t get to on our own.
And Sister, you weren’t made to stay in the darn boat! You may think that’s where you belong, but if you listen carefully, you will hear Jesus calling you to something greater than you can even imagine!
I’m still scared, but I’ve decided I’m going to go for it anyway. Will you?
Can we hold hands and step out together, cheering each other’s victories and lifting each other up by Jesus’ power when we sink?
Let’s tell our fears to shut up and our insecurities to get lost.
Let’s just do it scared if we have to!
Let this be our theme song as we climb out of our boats and walk where Jesus calls us!
These are few tools that are helping me step out and chase down my God-sized dream:
Elizabeth is a military spouse, veteran, and mother of eight. Above and beyond caring for her family, her mission is to offer words that sustain the weary and equip people to live a life of faith filled with purpose.
Learn more at elizmeyers.com.