I want to be bold.

I want to be strong.

I want to be faithful.

I want to be a warrior.

Fighting for the weak, standing firm in Truth, linking arms with other believers with the same mission, marching onward and upward, and teaching my children along the way.

Lately, though, the word “coward” has been circling in my mind. I’ve been thinking about what it really means to be a coward. I used to think it was only denouncing my faith in the face of death, but I think it’s much more prevalent than that.

Google and Miriam-Webster define coward as: “a person who lacks the courage to do or endure dangerous or unpleasant things” and “one who shows disgraceful fear or timidity.”

But how often does the desire for people’s approval and applause cloud the mission I mentioned earlier? Cowardice.

How often do I sit back and judge the actions of others without taking action myself? Cowardice.

How often do I allow myself to feel slighted and inferior because I’m not wrapped up in my own purpose for Him? Cowardice.

How often do I shut down the idea that God is moving BIG in someone’s life because I’m shutting the door in His face out of fear for what would be required of me if He were to be that present in my own life? Cowardice.

How often do I pray “easy” prayers that require little change of me, but hard/miraculous/intensely vulnerable change of others? Cowardice.

Disgraceful. Fearful. Timid. Lacking courage.

And in Revelation 21:8, God lumps the cowardly with the faithless and murderers (among other things).

Faithful obedience should fill my heart and leave no room for the coward in me. It should push it out 100%. But only when I intentionally let God take the reins of my life and live in total surrender to His will. His desire for my holiness is everything. Everything. He died to give it to me. It’s everything to Him. (And therefore should be everything to me.)

I can’t be a holy coward.

I can’t be a faithful coward.

I can’t be a strong coward.

I can’t be a bold coward.

I’m writing my prayer below. I’m writing and posting it so I can look back on it a year (or 5) from now and praise God for how He answered; how He did exactly what I begged Him to. I’m writing and posting this prayer so that if you feel the same way I do, then sister, we can pray it together.

“Lord, change me. Mold me. Work in me.

Give me wisdom and discernment as I kneel before Your Holy Word, so that my life bears the fruit of your Spirit and leads others to do the same.

And those other things I’m praying for? The accolades, the money, the “stability & freedom”, the opportunities… strip me of them ALL if they make me more reliant upon myself than YOU.

I am nothing without You. I am nothing without Your love, grace, mercy, and the salvation You provide that I could never earn or deserve.

Take away all the fear & excuses, and replace them with boldness, action, and LOVE.

Do what only You can do, so that the ONLY answer is You.”

https://youtu.be/EeZoQoyPn6I

Justin Williams led us in a beautiful thought this morning before the Lord’s Supper. I wanted to share it with you here because I think it’s a thought we should always hold close to our hearts. I hope it helps you center your mind around our Savior not only on the first day of the week, but every day after.

“This is a matter of life and death.

So it is vital that you focus for the next few minutes.

We come together each week to share this moment together, as do other believers all throughout the world. We come to memorialize the death, burial, and resurrection of our only hope to be with our God in Heaven some day: Jesus, the Christ.

The song says “Why did my Savior come to earth and to the humble go?”

God does not need me or you to keep His power and glory, yet Jesus left His place there to come here and suffered so that you and I could have the opportunity to enter His kingdom.

The song says “He could have called 10,000 angels.”

Jesus could have called legions of angels to exact vengeance for His treatment, yet He endured hours of torture because it was the only way a perfectly just God could look upon us and accept us.

He could have come and exerted His power by overthrowing governments and making allies with Kings and rulers, yet He sat and spoke words or love and truth to those who were considered outcast and hopeless.

He could have reserved the finest tables for the world’s elite, yet He invited his lowly apostles, and you and me, to dine at His table.

His life was spent in sacrifice, and his death was, too.

He took a memorial meal that had been alive since the Passover, put that focus to rest, and brought to life a new memorial – His supper, His communion.

So what do YOU bring to the table? We know what He brings, and He is the host. He died for us, and now He reserves this table for those who die for Him.

Galatians 2:20 says “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

The only way we can share in the fellowship of our Lord at this table is to not be alive anymore, in the sense that we put to death our old person – the person we were before we took on Christ. We fight daily to LIVE more in Him by DYING more to that person we used to be. So Jesus may not need me to maintain His power, but He demands that I crucify my selfish life before taking my seat at this table.

This is a fellowship meal of the most divine nature. A feast of the highest order, fitting for kings and queens, yet reserved for meek and lowly. For you and me.  Yet it is not the food we savor, but the presence of our loving Savior. Take this moment seriously, for it is truly a matter of life and death. Or should I say, death and LIFE.” ~JMW