Courage is Relative

"I know it's something God wants me to start living out, but often it's hard to know where to start."
Very nearly a year ago, my first post here talked a little bit about courage. About how I felt like it was time for me to start telling my story - but how that took a lot more bravery than I thought I had at the time.
What fascinates me most of all is that back then, my idea of brave was to write that bit of my story. Back then, honestly, that terrified me. And, if I'm being really honest, I still really struggle with making myself vulnerable. It just doesn't come naturally to me. Learning to have the courage to be vulnerable plays a huge part in what I've been learning lately, so I'll unpack what that means in more detail another day.
The thing that's really struck me, though, as I've thought about my journey over this past year, is how much my concept of what counts as "brave" has changed. I'm doing things now that even thinking about doing twelve months ago would have had me paralysed in terror.

Making Sense of the Chaos

"What has been will be again,what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun"

(Ecclesiastes 1:9, NIV)

Nor, it turns out, is there anything new in all of the posts I've been writing so far this year. 

It's been one of those times, again, where everything's been a bit overwhelming. My 26 years of life so far have been a constant, steady stream of all-or-nothing, and this has definitely been one of the "all" times. So much has been going on at once, and I've barely had a spare moment to write any of it down. Things to do, things to read, people to meet, plans to make. Everything's felt new, fresh, exciting. 

Except the funny thing is that, in all of the "newness", there really hasn't been anything new after all.

Say the Word (Part I)

Going into the new year, one thing I wanted to do was ask God for a word for me for 2015 [and I wrote a tiny bit more about that on New Year's Day]. Just like last year, I got two. This year, they are passion and restoration.

I want to expand on both of them in time, but I don't think it's right to write anything about restoration, yet. Not so early on in the year. Anyway, I get the feeling that one's 100% down to God - and I'm happy to leave it to him. His plan will be far better than anything I have in mind, anyway. But I'm looking forward to telling the stories.

Back to the Bench

Some of you might remember a post I wrote last year about one of my favourite places to spend time: one particular bench in the park near where I work.

Fear, Peace and Singing: Week 1 of my Treasure Hunt

"For the Lord your God is living among you.

He is a mighty saviour.

He will take delight in you with gladness.

With his love, he will calm all your fears.

He will rejoice over you with joyful songs."

(Zephaniah 3:17, NLT)

I've had an interesting first week of the challenge I set myself (If you missed it, and therefore don't have a clue what I'm talking about, you can read the original post here).

The first couple of days were reasonably uneventful – going to work, coming home and so on. It wasn't until Wednesday when the first thing that I'd call noteworthy happened. I was walking down the road on a break from work, and noticed a mother walking along the opposite side of the road with a pushchair. As I got closer, I could hear her singing to the child while she walked along.

As I thought more about it, I remembered that, somewhere in the Bible, it talked about God rejoicing over us with singing. I knew it was in there somewhere, although I couldn't remember exactly where. But at that moment I had a real-life illustration of what God does for every one of us. Because He loves us.

Then, that evening on my way home, I had a car accident.

The End of the Old Book (or How I Came to Have a Story to Tell)

I'm never particularly comfortable talking about myself, or what's going on in my life. I always feel as though I'm being far too self-indulgent. I'm much happier listening to the tales other people tell about their lives: their joys and sadnesses, trials and triumphs. I love hearing people's stories. Understanding where they've come from, and how they've got to where they are. "What's your story?" is one of my favourite questions.

Just please don't make me talk about me.

For a while, though, I've felt that it was time I did answer that question, publicly, for myself. One problem: I haven't been brave enough. There are a lot of chapters in that old book, and I'm still not bold enough to tell the stories contained in all of them. I'm not sure when – or if – that'll happen. But I think it's time for me to tell this one.