In the End

This post was originally published on The Road to Brave.

10/17/24
Somewhere on the road
11 months to the day from our first steps onto the Road to Brave 

Every so often, when we’re willing to slow down enough to notice, we get glimpses. 

Sunsets, babies, leaves in the breeze. Wrinkled hands gripping yours, clouded eyes filled with peace, embraces holding tight. 

Glimpses of pure hope. Glimpses of pure joy. Glimpses of pure love. Glimpses of eternity, if you will. 

Glimpses of courage. Glimpses of fearlessness. 

And often, those glimpses are enough to make us wonder. Enough to take a peep over the chasm of fear. 

Because at some point, you just realize, I am so, so tired of being afraid. 

So tired. 

And a thought begins to take shape. What life is on the other side of fear? 

I’ve gotten glimpses of the courageous life, of the wholehearted living that presses through fear in order to hang onto the things that matter most. And I know I want that. 

It made me want to leave the land of Eeep and take the road to Brave in the hopes that I would find a strong, courageous life at the end of it. So, dear friend, I did. Trembling in my laced-up, suede-brown Merrell hiking boots, leaving Eeep behind and taking the road to Brave and hoping I’d live to see the end of it. 

After watching countless two-hour action movies, it really seems like a year of seeking courage ought to resolve itself in a deep and satisfying character arc. In a radically transformed hero — one that was anxious and fearful at the onset of whatever defining-life-moment forced it onto the road to Brave, and then bold and strong and forever courageous by the time the end credits roll and a sweeping strings-forward soundtrack fills the room. 

But step away from the screen for a moment. Here, to your front door — open it, and let your mind’s eye carry you with me across the miles, across all the adventures behind us, to today. 

The breeze is cool — refreshing, fall-ish, but not yet cold. Standing in the middle of an autumn field, traveling pack at my feet and a long, long road behind me, I shield my eyes from the late afternoon sun and peer ahead at the path in front of me. It stretches onward all the way to the horizon, disappearing into invisibility over the far hills. 

“Isn’t there an end to all this?” I ask, looking up. At the corners of the meadow, aspens glitter gold and green in the sunlight, their leaves whispering to each other. “My feet hurt. I have blisters, and this view is beautiful, but I do not see Brave yet, and I think my map is broken.” 

I flop to the ground, drawing up my knees to my chest. Maybe you do, too. I take off the boots, adding moleskin, knowing it’ll ease some of the discomfort. A deep breath in, a deep breath out, reminding myself that I don’t have to have a certain number of miles covered before nightfall. 

“What end are you seeking?” a voice asks abruptly, warm and tender. And there, as we jump up and turn around, is our Savior, with a presence that overwhelms us with nearness even as we somehow know it’s been here all along. 

I swallow. “Brave,” I say at last. “But I haven’t found it, and I think I’m going in circles. At any rate, I don’t feel much braver, so I think the border must still be a long way off.” 

“How did you get here?” He asks, looking back along the road we’ve come from.  

“Well.” I glance back too, following his gaze. “I guess, I just…came?” 

“You fought battles too, dear one,” He says. “Which ones?” 

“Well, I wrestled with choosing the truth about every other day,” I confess. “When it comes to who I am, and why I work, and how to love and hope. But I still have to wrestle with it. I wrestled with letting go and with not shoving grief away. But I still have to wrestle with those. I wrestled with stepping outside my comfort zone and accepting help and slowing down. But I still have to wrestle with those. See what I mean? I’m nowhere closer to Brave than I was when I started, after all that.” I fight the urge to bury my head in my hands, knowing it would look really childish. 

“Tell Me what you learned on the road so far,” He says, settling down as if in no hurry. 

And so I do. About going and coming and jumping and waiting and hurting and healing and hoping and loving. When I finally stop and take a deep breath, He nods slowly. 

“Rather ordinary things, aren’t they?” 

I agree. 

“Where, dear one, would your feet be now had you not chosen those ordinary steps?” He asks. 

I look around. “I guess not here,” I admit. “Definitely solidly in Eeep. But I want to be in the land of Brave, not perpetually on the road to it.” 

He laughs, a delighted, patient sound that warms everything. “My love,” He whispers at last, “you are in it.” 

I stare at Him in disbelief. Then around me. Then back at Him. 

“But this is just a road.” My brows are furrowed in disbelief (or unbelief, I’m not sure which). “Roads are supposed to go places. And I don’t feel brave. I thought I’d feel stronger at the end of all this. Isn’t there a land of Brave where you don’t feel fear anymore?” 

He laughs. “When have I told you to not feel afraid? Have I not instead commanded you not to be afraid?”

I don’t have anything to say to that, and He continues. 

“Isn’t courage the decision to take action despite fear? Is that not what it is to be brave? With each mile of road, you’ve been kept in My love, strengthened by My grace, learning to trust Me more and more. In the walking, in the everyday, you are learning that perfect love casts out fear.” 

I feel the breeze on my face, the path beneath my currently-unbooted feet. I think back, a thousand memories flashing past my mind’s eye as I see the tiny choices, the daily decisions, the grace of God in all of them. 

I see the ordinary dirt of the road, before and ahead of me. I see the pebbles, the rocks, the imprints of my footsteps — and His — stretching away behind me. The road to Brave I’ve already traveled, the road still up ahead. 

And deep inside, I know it’s true. 

Friend, sometimes I still want to wake up in a land where I feel no fear. And someday, when all is set right, we will. But today, I am learning that it is on the road that we become brave. 

Courage is found in the everyday steps, our everyday choices, not in one final destination. 

Today, I am learning that while courage looks a lot more ordinary than we think, the courageous life is actually extraordinary. Think where your feet stand now, and where they would be had you not followed our Savior beyond your comfort zone and through fear or worry and into what lay beyond. 

I am still learning how to live daily in this, and I haven’t figured it all out. But today, I am also learning that in the end, it is Christ’s perfect love that casts out fear. 

I cannot hold to the truth of who God is and hold to fear at the same time. 

I cannot hold to the goodness of God and hold to fear at the same time. 

I cannot hold to the perfect love of a perfect God and hold to fear at the same time. 

And one thing I do know: courage is a little bit easier, a little bit simpler, when we run after it with others. Friend, invite others into your journey toward the courageous life, toward resting in the perfect love of God. We were not meant to walk alone. We were meant to walk hand in hand with other souls who can encourage, counsel, and support us — and for whom we can do the same.  

Today, 11 months to the day from our first post, we at last part ways. But it has been a joy to walk with you on this road toward becoming brave.

May the perfect love of God cast out our fear, and may we walk boldly in the footsteps of our Savior as He leads us. 

In the words of C.S. Lewis,

Further up and further in.