Why do we limit our lives to the mundane of only what we can see? Why, oh why, do we cling to safety over being truly alive?

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

“Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” (Matthew 14:28-30).

Why are we so terrified of coming to the end of ourselves when that’s the place when God rushes in?

Why are we so scared of throwing a leg over the side of the boat and stepping into the water to follow Him into the unknown when that’s where we find Him holding our hand?

Why are we so desperately opposed to jumping off the cliff, doing something radical, and living in faith?

Why are we so terrified of getting it wrong, making a mistake, and having doors slam shut in our faces?

Why do we limit our lives to the mundane of only what we can see?

Why, oh why, do we cling to safety over being truly alive?

Why? Because God knew we needed the cross:

• • He knew the only way to be alive fully was to die.
  • Die to ownership of our lives,
  • Die to control and the right to be normal.
  • Die to the right to script our lives the way we think they should be.

We NEED to let go of comfort and ease.

The biggest miracles can only happen when the stage is set with desperation.

Yesterday, I asked two specific prayer requests of the LORD and within hours, God answered directly, bluntly, in a way I couldn’t miss. I had almost felt demanding in my prayer, but it was a desperate cry from my heart, and God smiled and nodded, “Yes!”

My heart is warmed and calmed. It’s not an insult to ask for specific needs to be met. Several of you shared prayer requests with me. I’m lifting those up today, too.

Do you know what’s powerful?

We can pray for others before our own needs seem to be met. This is the muscle of faith, working when the results aren’t seen.

Sometimes God seems silent or aloof. Sometimes our prayers take years to be answered, and we forget that the lessons we learn under that tension are far better than just an immediate response.

A guitar can only create music when its strings are under extreme pressure from both sides. The best music comes from a place of tension. So, it seems, does the most vigorous faith.

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:8—10).

Author: M l  Troyer