Stepping out before you know how it all turns out—that’s what faith is all about. But many Christians embrace the false notion that it should be easy, or at least simple. And if it’s not, God isn’t in it.
But when we look at Scripture, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, there is one thing we know we will encounter every time we change direction in life—resistance.
So you want to step out in a new life direction. But you’re afraid. That’s normal. Fear often keeps us from moving forward. What if I showed you the steps needed to move forward with clarity, confidence, and abundant faith to live an authentic life adventure?
First let me acknowledge that I did not follow all of the steps I am about to share with you—not intentionally anyway. Some I had to learn the hard way.
Do you know where you are headed next in life? Do you know where you should be headed next? If you’re like a lot of us, you may have accidentally fallen into a life direction instead of intentionally choosing your best path.
But it doesn’t have to be that way. In fact, it shouldn’t be that way.
God created each one of us with unique strengths, passions, and skills sets. He gave us each unique relationship connections that open doors of opportunity unavailable to others.
And He expects us to use it all to more fully reveal His majesty on earth as it is in heaven.
One reason we struggle to discover God’s direction for our lives — a reason we seldom talk about — is that we are trying to do too much. We’re so overloaded and over-committed that we’re not able to listen for what God wants next with the faith of a child.
The purpose of this blog is to help you live an authentic life. To do that, I have to be authentic about my journey.
And right now, I am overloaded.
Combine a book launch with a few delays on other key projects and my tendency to be over-committed and you have the perfect example of trying to cram too much into too little time. It’s all really good, Kingdom-advancing stuff. But I confess I’m struggling to make my problems line up for me, a John Maxwell principle I’ve always tried to live by.
I had a vivid dream the other night that served as a not so-subtle reminder of what happens when I try to do it all.
Every Christian wants to one day hear the words, “Well, Done!” Each FaithWalker wants to do great things for God. But most of us think we just don’t have what it takes to qualify for the Faith Hall of Fame.
We’ve all got stories we tell ourselves about why we don’t belong on the field with those “Major League Christians” we meet in the pages of Scripture. [See my post The Myth of the Minor League Christian.] It’s as if we think we must be perfect in order to qualify for walking by faith.
But nothing could be further from the truth. Thank God!
In fact, do you know the one thing every FaithWalker in Scripture seems to have had in common? Failure.
When I first stepped out by faith to pursue God’s call to write, I heard many people say, “That calling is not for everyone,” as if the call to follow Christ on a faith adventure were reserved only for the Christian elite—not the rest of us who should “bloom where we’re planted” in the Christian minor leagues.
You can discover more of my story and the resistance I encountered in my book A Story Worth Telling. But the idea that there are two classes of Christ followers—the Major and Minor Leagues of Christianity—is not new.
The Apostle Paul addressed this urge to create an upper class of Christians when he said, “What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” (1 Corinthians 3:5-6) The Church unintentionally reinforced this thinking with the idea of sainthood, setting up icons to commemorate ordinary Christians doing what God had called them to do. And for many centuries, everyone knew the best Christians, those most serious about following Christ, secluded themselves in monasteries. The major league faith took place behind those walls, while the rest of the rabble settled for being minor league disciples.
It was nearly nightfall when Moses looked out over the trembling waters of the Red Sea, took a deep breath, and held it. There it was, exactly where God said it would be.
Moses stood, staring for a moment, as if expecting the watery barrier to fade like the many mirages he’d seen in the desert for decades while tending sheep.
Now I have sheep of a different kind, the fledgling leader thought. He exhaled slowly while turning toward the teeming masses— nearly two million people—that stretched as far as he could see. They had cheered him just a few days ago as they followed him out of Egypt, but they weren’t cheering now. Their furious, frustrated cries washed over him yet again. They clamored, complained, accused, and threatened to desert him.
They’re just afraid, Moses thought, an emotion he understood only too well. As he continued his pivot away from the sea, he saw what the people saw behind them: the mightiest army in the world. The Egyptian host stood ready to recapture or destroy them, whichever came easiest.
He could see them only vaguely now, for they were blurred by the flaming cloud that had descended between them earlier that day. Now as the daylight faded quickly, Moses could see the flames more distinctly, an inferno sent by God Himself to separate them from the Egyptians bent on vengeance.
Encouraged by the vivid reminder of God’s intervention, Moses shook his head as if to clear it of fear and focus his faith on the One who had appeared to him in that burning bush.
It felt so long ago, so far away.
And yet, in spite of the bleak scenario, he could not shake the same sense he had felt then: God was up to something. Even now, in this dark hour, he could feel it.
God is about to move, Moses thought, if only we have the faith to follow.
The obstacles he faced now—the sea in front, the army behind, and a mob all around—might as well have been the same mountains that had surrounded him that day he’d first encountered God while alone in the wilderness. Those mountains hadn’t stopped him then, and somehow he doubted these barriers would stop God’s people now.
The sea and the army sure looked imposing, even insurmountable, but he had seen enough to know one thing: God is bigger.
Moses held his arms out beside him, palms upward and open. He lifted his face expectantly toward the starry sky and muttered: “I guess you know I’m out of options here. If you’re going to move, now would be a good time.”
When we trust God enough to stand down, we invite His power to show up.
But that doesn’t mean God will show up on our schedule. I’m sure Moses would have preferred God open the Red Sea sooner. But the story could not so wondrously reveal the majesty of God if he had not been so radically dependent on him.
God shows his greatness best when our situation can’t get much worse.
The psalmist declared that God would save us “just at the break of dawn” (Psalm 46:5 nkjv). He loves to wait until we are out of options so there can be no mistaking who is responsible for the solution.
It should not surprise us when God waits until just before morning to deliver us. In fact, we should expect it.
Question: What about you? Have you ever had a Red Sea Moment when you had to step out before you saw God move as He promised? Share your thoughts by clicking here.
This post is an excerpt from my new book A Story Worth Telling: Your Field Guide to Living an Authentic Life.
For a limited time, get a FREE chapter here.
For the month of June, pastors and ministry leaders only can get the entire book FREE here.
Sacrifice. It’s not a popular word. It never has been and probably never will be. But to those who desire an authentic life, the kind of life that produces a story worth telling, sacrifice must become a way of life. Faith is the stuff heroes are made of.
This past weekend in America, we celebrated Memorial Day. We set aside a day to remember the fallen, those brave men and woman who served in our Armed Forces and gave their last measure of full devotion — but why did they do it?
I would suggest most did it because of what they believed to be true, most definitely in spite of what they saw, sensed, or felt. For readers of my new book A Story Worth Telling, that explanation should sound familiar — it is the very definition of faith.
One thing I’ve learned on this journey to live a story worth telling is that living by faith is more of a process than an event. Even the most passionate Christ-follower is tempted to settle, to find a safe place where faith doesn’t seem quite so necessary for survival.
The good news is this: God will not let His children settle. For when we settle, we cease to trust. When we cease to trust, we fail to please God.
God’s first instruction to us at Creation was to be fruitful and multiply, to fill the earth and subdue it. It was a command to keep moving forward alongside Him, to always be seeking the next adventure. He repeated the command to Noah and his family after The Great Flood.
And yet what do we see within a few generations but an effort to settle down instead of stepping up. In a place that came to be called Babel, they said: “Let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” (Genesis 11:4)
Even though the rest of the world lay unexplored, they chose to settle. They pulled back in fear instead of stepping out with courageous faith. They chose to consolidate their own power so they wouldn’t need to trust in God. Or so they thought.
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