As soon as I give it to Him, He shows up.

Yeah, I’m still afraid. I still don’t have all the answers. I’m still fumbling blindly around an unfamiliar place hoping desperately that I find the light switch so I can see where I’m going.

It seems like my life has been a match of tug-of-war between fear and trust. More often than not, I find myself standing beside fear, lending my strength in the battle to the wrong side. I never knew so much of my life would be dominated by this seemingly larger-than-life match of tug-of-war.

But at least I can breathe again. I can, for the time being, look at the future with excitement and anticipation instead of terror and dread. I can look people in the eye when they ask me about my plans. I’ll even bring it up when I’m in a particularly good mood.

And the tug-of-war? Well, I’m currently standing with trust and we’re beating out fear. Of course, the moment my hands begin to sting, I might go back to fear’s side. That’s the thing about this match: I’m constantly choosing who I side with. Every moment of every day. And sometimes, to my far from 20/20 vision, fear has a better offer. I don’t have to fight as hard or hold as tightly. Fear is like that old, beat-up pair of flip-flops that you keep around. Sure, you can feel every single rock you step on, but they’re just so darn comfortable.

Ultimately, it comes down to a balance. Fear happens. It’s part of life. The danger comes when I let it be my navigator. In those times, I feel like Bob the Tomato saying angrily to his preoccupied co-pilot, “Maybe next time, I can drive into the river!” That’s how bad of a navigator fear is. The moment I give it control is the moment I set myself up for failure.

Then I get off-track. I let fear tell me where to go. I go around in circles, getting absolutely nowhere. And I put the blame on God. I give Him a very pointed “Or maybe you could help me with the map!” Oh, but silly me. He’s been here the whole time waiting for me to ask where I’m going and how to get there.