I never wanted to play it safe.
In those rare minutes when the noise of life is quieter than His whisper against my insides, I welcome risk. I want adventure and a life-rush that might empty every last drop of me and dreams that keep my eyes open during otherwise-normal days. I’ll take the threat of danger, if it means I get more of Him. I want unconventional, even when it’s coupled with the prospect of clearing my bank account or my fuel tank or my carefully planned schedule.
Yes, even with my children in mind, when life is still and my pulse tells me He is near, I’m Caleb and the giants are small.
I never wanted to play it safe, no not even as a mom. And I don’t want them to play it safe, either. I’ve lived enough life to know they can’t live with both a deep sense of Him coursing through their veins and a white-knuckled grip on their circumstances. I want them to sing (even through tears) if the house burns down and to clear their savings if He nudges them and buy a one-way ticket to China if He asked.
But there is one sneaky thing that tries to keep me tethered to safety, that tries to keep my life –and theirs — small.