I grip the counter, my brain refusing to believe what my ears have just heard.
“He called you what?” I ask as my heart falls into my stomach.
Surely I just misheard what she said. Surely a fourth grader doesn’t know about these things. But she says it again. I look up at Ryan, searching his face for answers. Searching his eyes for an anchor to grasp as my fears begin to take me down.
It’s twenty agonizing minutes before the other kids are in bed. Twenty minutes to find enough wisdom to speak truth into a 9 year old’s heart. And I realize I’m bankrupt. I don’t have what it takes to be a parent in these perilous times. My fear is all I can see. Those fears materializing into reality. Those nights lying awake wondering, “What if?” are now becoming “What now?” And I fight the urge to sink into despair.
We sit down and start to talk. Questions I don’t want to ask. Answers I don’t want to hear. And yet a conversation happens that will ring in my heart as one of the most precious I have ever had. I get a glimpse of her thoughts. Thoughts she often keeps guarded. I catch a peek at her heart. A heart she rarely leaves exposed. We talk about things that are uncomfortable. And we laugh. We talk about things that are scary. And we dream. We replace the secrets with light, the lies with truth, and the fears with courage.
Light, truth, and courage can only come from the One who fills my bankrupt soul to overflowing.
Yet my fears still linger. So it wasn’t as bad as I thought...but “what if…”
My instincts tell me, RUN! HIDE! Make sure that nothing bad ever happens so we can be safe.
I lie awake wrestling with my thoughts. That question still burning a hole in my mind
“What if…”
But then I hear another question. A question that send my fears running.
“What if my kids fall so madly in love with Jesus, they flood their school with light?”
“What if we stopped trying to life safe and began living free?”
“What if my kids see a mom who knows who she is in Christ and stops comparing herself to others?”
And as my fears retreat into the shadows, I’m restless for a different reason. My soul begins to stir with excitement. My heart begins to break for this boy, and for so many others who need someone to love them. Someone to share Jesus with them. After all, darkness is merely the absence of light. Darkness has no power of it’s own. It’s only when the light stops shining that darkness reigns. It can’t remain in the presence of light. And I wonder, maybe instead of shaking our heads at the darkness of the world, we should start shining the light in it. Light shines on truth, and truth always sets us free. That’s where I want to live. That’s where I choose to live. It’s always a choice, though. I can hide in my fear anytime I want. But that’s not living. That’s staying in the tomb, bound by the graveclothes of death.
And the questions keep coming...
“What if we actually made a difference in this community?”
“What if the lost were found?”
“What if our passion for Jesus won over our fear of rejection?”
“What if the blind received sight, the prisoners were set free, the broken were healed, the hopeless found hope, the lonely felt loved, the blind could see, and the outcasts invited in?”
“WHAT IF WE WERE A PART OF MAKING THIS HAPPEN?!?!? What if we stopped hiding and started shining?”
I will protect my kids to the death. I understand my responsibility to shelter them. But for too long I’ve used that as an excuse to live asleep--bound by fear, insecurity, and lies. It’s time to LIVE! I don’t want to live safe anymore. I want to live free.
The next night we’re praying together. Praying for this boy who needs hope. This boy who needs a Savior. Those kids in Costa RIca who have hardly anything. Our neighbors down the street. The girls at school who cry out for attention.
And together, we dream of the possibilities.
