I know what I ‘m supposed to be doing.
I ‘m not doing it.
I’m sitting around asking someone to tell me I’m crazy and no one will.
I’m asking for more confirmation.
I’m searching for a guarantee that I’ll come off cool.
Like I’ve got anywhere to go but up in that regard.
I want someone to say, “No, Baby. They aren’t worth it.”
Or, “You rock! Can I come with you?”
All I’m getting is, “If God said, ‘Do it;’ you best hurry.”
I’ve got nothing to lose.
For the first time in two months.
I am deathly afraid.
Afraid I’ll die.
Dying is not the absolute worst thing to me.
I’m afraid of something worse.
Funny thing is…
I’ve already had that.
Why in the world, then, would I choose the approval of humans over obedience to God,
when God will have to pass over me if I don’t strive to obey?
He’ll get the job done.
With or without me.
Why would I pass up the opportunity to see Him work?
To see Him shine?
In exchange for the approval of ordinary people, to whom I mean nothing.
I ought to be afraid to stiff arm God.