I took swimming lessons when I was young, but I did not learn to swim very well. I was afraid of water deeper than five feet. I usually stayed in the shallow end and played in the water. I didn’t get on a diving board until I was fifty-nine years old.
When I stepped on that diving board, fear paralyzed me. A young girl behind me said, “You can do it! Go for it!” I turned toward her and said, “I believe you. I think I can. Just not today.” Excusing myself, I sheepishly retraced my steps down to solid ground.
Fast forward about a year. I worked my way to the deep end, jumping off the side of the pool into progressively deeper water until I felt ready to jump off the diving board. As I stepped onto the springboard, it began to bounce. The closer I got to the end, the bouncier it got. With each bounce, my heart jumped upward until it landed in my throat. Peering over the edge of the board, the pool looked much deeper than twelve feet. After a quick “God help me!” prayer, I took a deep breath, plugged my nose with my left hand and casually stepped off the side. I tried a couple more times to get to the end of the board but was not able to get to the bounciest part. Since I persevered through my fears and took the risk, I considered my venture successful.
After a few jumps off the side of the diving board, my interest waned. I have not jumped off a diving board in over three years. It will not upset me if I never jump off a diving board again. So why did I do it? I needed to know that I could.
I wish I had conquered all the fears in my life with that amount of determination and courage. Like most others, I have missed my share of opportunities because I was afraid.
Recovery from compulsive eating uncovered a deep fear of abandonment and rejection. I was afraid to trust people. Could I face those fears with the same determination and courage I exhibited in the pool? Was I willing to risk failure, embarrassment, judgment, or disappointment? If I wanted to move forward, I had no choice. I had to take the risk.
I am learning to let God handle the outcome of any risk I take. Even if I do not get the outcome I want, I usually do not regret taking the risk.
Why does trusting God feel so risky?
It is risky to step forward in any relationship, and our relationship with God is no exception. But learning to trust requires risk the possibility that things may not turn out as we expect. God may not move the way we want. Isaiah 55:8-9 NIV “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, either are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and y thoughts than your thoughts.”
Transformation requires trust in God and includes risk. Victory is in taking the risk and accepting the outcome. I was once afraid of letting people know me. I falsely believed that if people saw me when I was tired, discouraged, selfish or needy, they would reject me. Courage to face that fear came from certainty that God has never rejected me, nor will He. And He knows everything about me. I am free now to be myself, which brings me great joy.
Freedom from compulsive eating came when I risked believing that God did care about me, including what I ate and how much. I trusted a fellow compulsive eater with reporting daily to her everything I ate. My life changed dramatically when I looked to God for the courage to risk.
Who? Me? What is God asking you to risk? Are you willing?
One More Step: What is your next step?
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