I am scared to stay here.

I am scared to stay here.

I am scared to stay here.

That’s really the answer to so many questions in my life right now.  Maybe I should just start answering people that way.  I’m positive that I’d get my fair share of crazy looks, but at least I’d be speaking my mind, which is kind of one of the traits I stake my personality on.

To be fair, though…typing that was the first time I’ve been able to crystallize it for myself.  I’ve been trying to figure out for a week now why this is so important to me.  Why I get so passionately excited about the possibility of moving to Texas.  Why I get this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when we start talking about staying here.  Why I fight actual anger at all the people who keep telling us we can’t move.  We shouldn’t move.  They don’t want us to move.

“But you’re not the one who has to deal with the inside of my mind right now.  You’re not the one who has to deal with one of the few fears I have.”

And that fear?

Is comfort.  When I start getting comfortable, I get scared.  And it’s the weirdest kind of scared I’ve ever experienced.  It’s not like a blatant fear, like the fear that I experienced when Josh made me ride the Mamba at World’s of Fun.  That 205 foot climb was absolutely terrifying to me, in a completely undeniable way.  It was not a sneaky fear.

My fear of comfort is a sneaky fear.  It clings to the edges of my conscious, which makes it pretty easy to ignore most of the time.  The antidote to that fear is a simple one: disengage.  The farther I disengage, the more I envelope myself in a world of Facebook and web surfing and television and games on my cell phone, the more faint the fear becomes.  But it’s still there.  And it sneaks up on me in the moments when my mind isn’t otherwise occupied.  Usually when I’m trying to sleep at night, which could explain why I haven’t been sleeping so well lately.  Every time I lay down, the fear meets me there.  Which often leads me to get up and occupy my mind with simple things to disengage me.

This is a vicious cycle.

I am absolutely terrified of waking up ten years from now and realizing nothing’s changed.  Realizing that I’ve spent the past decade disengaging from life to keep myself comfortable.  Fighting hard to keep myself in situations in which I don’t actually need God to show up.  And that’s how life feels right now.  It doesn’t feel like I’m taking any risks or doing anything truly worthwhile.  I’m often on the edge of it, but I fight to keep from diving in, because it feels unsafe.

I am absolutely terrified of waking up ten years from now and experiencing the same fears and insecurities and hurts that gnaw at the edges of my spirit today.  I’m afraid of being afraid.

I’m afraid of waking to find that I have a faith so shallow that it’s not faith at all.  It’s me setting up my life so God doesn’t have to intervene, and I don’t have to be uncomfortable, and I don’t have to experience a little thing called trust.  Because let’s face it…trust isn’t really necessary when circumstances are ideal.  It’s only necessary when everything is one wrong move away from falling apart.

So why is it that I’m afraid of being comfortable…and of being uncomfortable.

Terrified of being safe…and of being unsafe.

Calling it faith…and living out of what I see.


One thought on “comfort

  1. Rebecca Johnston says:


    This comforted me:

    Also, God directs your steps. It’s a promise. Nothing can thwart His purpose for you!

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