Courage lives in love

Pause.

I've started this series in the middle for a reason.

Courage always has a reason.

As I've described, there was a time when I was not awake to myself, to my God, to His desire for my purposeful, full-out, filled-in life. I realize now that, during that time, I didn't like myself very much. I caved deeper and deeper into myself, grappling with friendships that felt shallow, wondering why I didn't hack it with other people. Truthfully, I didn't hack it with myself.

When I stare at my feet, I look up only to find I've walked in small circles. Revelations revisited every few weeks, months, years – stale. Circle again and I stand in the same place.

Living life with courage started to happen naturally when I paused and acknowledged I had no idea who I was and especially who I was to Jesus. I cling to a phrase I heard in a sermon – "When you know who you are, you'll know what to do."

They asked me where I'll be in five years, and I couldn't answer. I have no idea where I'm going. I have no idea what any of this is for.

I woke up in the middle and I lived far from courage – stunted because I feared fear and failure.

He sat on the end of his couch and I sat on the opposite end, facing him. His wife, my mentor, busied herself with coffee and kitchen and children and we talked, waiting for her. He'd returned to preaching in a one-time-only appearance. He preached on love, on what it means and what it makes us:

Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

This verse in John expresses Christ's security in his past, present, and future, he said. On his last night in the same room as the man who would sell him to his enemies, near the disciple who would disown him, staring at the hour when emotional and physical pain would culminate in his excruciating death, Jesus performed a task they could not understand and usually would not respect.

Courage rose from supper, laid aside his embarrassment, his longing to be understood, his anxiety over the future.

Before Him, in our eyes, lay chaos. But the Son, who is one with the Father, who knows His Father's will and submits to it, found freedom to give Himself – to love – because He knew the answer to the biggest question.

I Am.

Courage lives with Him – dwells in us. We know glimpses of it the way we know glimpses of glory. We hear creation's whispers of God. But it never emerges whole without Him.

Just as I have loved you, you also ought to love one another. Love opposes fear.

Love is selflessly seeking what is best for the other, he said. But we can only love others this way when we find ourselves wholeheartedly in Christ, who demonstrates His love for us in this: while we sought ourselves, our pleasure, our glory, Christ died for the ungodly.

We were on vacation and I wanted to cliff jump into the sea like everyone else. So my mom took my hand and counted to three and jumped. Years later, she said she wanted to teach her children it is good to be brave.

Courage lives in love.