Warriors, Workers, and Those Who Pray
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9
Do you have days when you feel overwhelmed? Maybe even days when you think you don’t have an ounce of strength left? Days when you resent it when folks comment on your courage? Days when courageous is the last thing you feel? Days when fear looms, wiping away any hint of personal confidence? Yep, we all have been there.
A while back, I heard a minister say, “Courage is fear that already has said its prayers.” I like that. When we’re afraid, we exaggerate our fears and say, “I’ll never be able to . . .” Most of us have allowed our fears to finish that sentence at one time or another.
Do you recall the dramatic account in the book of Numbers, chapters 13 and 14, when the Israelites heard reports about the Promised Land? The twelve spies Moses had sent there now argued whether they could claim the land.
Two of the warriors, Caleb and Joshua, said, “We can do it!”
But the ten others gave in to their fears and told Moses, the people, and themselves they couldn’t possibly possess the land because of the size and strength of the groups already living there. In fact, they said, “We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them” (Num. 13:33).
That’s the way we feel when we’re facing a challenge—small and powerless. We allow our fear to make the situation bigger than it really is. And we rob ourselves of a blessing, just as the ten spies who talked the people out of conquering the land did. That fear-filled decision resulted in the Israelites having to endure another forty years of wandering in the desert. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have another forty years to waste that way.
At one time or another, like the spies in Numbers 13, we all have challenges we’re afraid to tackle. What wonderful things would we experience if we claimed God’s promises and started looking at life courageously instead of through the eyes of defeat? And it isn’t just ancient (or modern) warriors who display courage.
For example, when we lived in New York, we ventured down to the city to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade with friends—and thousands of others. It was an incredible day of seeing the displays that long had been part of our holiday traditions but only on TV. The best part of the day for me, though, was meeting a subway elevator operator.
For long hours each day he’s trapped in a box under the streets of New York City and breathing air thick with dirt and fumes. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d been grumpy and complained about being stuck there. But he greeted us cheerfully and asked where we were from.
When he had delivered us to our requested level, he wished us well, asked us to come back again, and added a cheerful, “I luv ya.”
As we waited for the subway train, we could hear him singing as he strolled in front of the elevator, waiting for his next passengers. Rather than allowing himself to complain about his life, he chose to bring freshness and joy to those who shared his day, even for those few minutes.
True, the elevator operator wasn’t facing the same enemies the Israelites were. But whatever his own struggles, he appeared to face them with cheerful courage and without paralyzing regrets.
Yes, just as fear and bitterness can drain our courage and keep us from a bright future, so can regrets. Years ago, I told a family friend about my regret I’d sold some furniture for too low a price.
His gentle advice has since gotten me through more than mere furniture sales: “You’ve made your decision. Now live with it.”
So even as we pray, we need to make a conscious effort to stop the “if onlys,” such as “If only I hadn’t moved,” or “If only I hadn’t taken that job,” or “If only I hadn’t married so young.”
Remember, you made your decision based on the information you had at the time. Allow me to say this again: Hanging on to past regrets doesn’t allow us to move forward.
A couple of summers ago, a friend was back in her hometown visiting relatives. While her children enjoyed a special outing with their cousins, she drove by the house where she had lived before her divorce. She felt almost as though she should pull into the driveway and honk the horn for her husband to come out and help with the groceries.
But, of course, that was impossible, and she drove away through tears as she scolded herself. Why didn’t I have the good sense to enjoy those years instead of always looking for perfection? she wondered. Why was I demanding storybook attention?
Relief came only as she prayed, asking the Lord’s forgiveness for not having appreciated the blessings of ordinary events. Then she asked him to help her see the joy in each new day. In that moment, she let go of the past and was willing to move forward.
During today’s devotion, we’ve looked at regrets and fear of the unknown. But what if the fear is real? Several years ago, Chet Bitterman Jr., a Wycliffe missionary in Bogota, Columbia, was kidnapped. For days, his father furiously paced his Pennsylvania home, wondering how he could rescue his son. Suddenly he heard within his spirit, “Give thanks.”
To give thanks was the last thing Chet Sr. wanted to do. He’d already seriously contemplated rounding up an armed group of his friends, flying into the South American city, and taking it apart, brick by brick.
But as he struggled with the Spirit’s witness in his heart, he realized the order was to give thanks, not feel thanks. As he wondered what he could possibly be thankful for, he remembered his son had memorized hundreds of Scripture verses.
Surely those verses are encouraging him, he thought as he gave thanks for the peace the Word of God undoubtedly was giving Chet Jr. at that very moment.
Upon further reflection, Chet Sr. added thankfulness for his son’s physical strength and emotional stability. The list grew. Did it provide the miracle the senior Bitterman wanted? Sadly, no. Young Chet’s body was found in an abandoned bus forty-eight days later. But the prayers of a worried parent were another act of courage—and opened a hurting heart to the comfort the Lord wanted to give.
I don’t know why our heavenly Father didn’t rescue the young missionary who was serving him. And I don’t know why he allows bad things to happen to us. All I know is that he is with us always—during good times and bad. So let’s be grateful when things are going well and cling to him when the bad times come.
Prayer: Father God, I don’t feel courageous. In fact, fear often seems to be my companion these days. Fear of the future. Fear for my children. Fear about our finances. And now, after reading today’s devotion, I have fear of fear! Mixed with those fears are so many regrets. Sigh. But constantly worrying about my fears and failures won’t make them go away. So please help me talk to you honestly about each one. Help me recognize your comfort, your forgiveness, your guidance. Help me know you are with me and with my children.
Thoughts to Ponder
Personal Ponderings