"Your courage asked me what I'm afraid of…" ~ Sara Groves
Tonight I am afraid. I don't know if freedom fighters are supposed to admit to fear… if it sounds like we're giving up… incompetant… or plain ol' yellow, but there it is. I'm scared.
The rational part of me repeats the lecture of how I have truly nothing to fear — safe country, ability to fight slavery without genuine persecution, meals in my belly, supports. In all honesty, I could never compare my life to the survivors, the street kids, the babies I've met over the years. I have no right to.
But since when was fear rational?
Where's the starting point? What can I truly do? What can anyone do? Leave it to the lawyers, the social workers, the politicians, the cops… people in the know, professionals with the training. People who know what 'capacity building' is and how it's done, people who can write grants (and understand the process behind them), people who can wield influence well, people who… are brave.
At first I thought I sounded like Moses, giving God reason after lame reason why I can't fight slavery. But then I remembered that Moses was raised in the Egyptian royal court — he was a statesman. Humble as he was, I have no such training or knowledge.
People are frightening. Conversations are terrifying. Knowing how to interpret phrases, remembering the right questions to ask, keeping everything straight… every single day? And God wants me to fight slavery? Be an advocate?
Jesus said not to worry about anything… I wonder if He has a special way of dealing with anxiety that conceives a life of its own within its host. I wonder if He has a way of soothing the soul when the heart, mind, body and spirit feel sick on a daily basis, exhausted morning, noon and night. I wonder if He has a way of rinsing the pain and stiffness from the muscles when they simply cannot relax no matter how often I 'take my thoughts captive'. He must… He must know how anxiety and worry destroys the soul with such poison racing through the system.
I won't give in. I won't give up. How easy for me to say in my cushy world, but those standing for truth will be attacked wherever they are. I may not live with a gun to my head but if I am silenced even from within the confines of safety, those who do live with the threat of death have lost another voice. I have been effectively eliminated. This can't happen. Not because I'm anyone special, but because letting evil steamroll the truth is unthinkable.
It's my choice.
I've made it.
The courage of survivors serves as a challenge to keep going, to confront fear, to grit my teeth and learn what I need to learn. They overcome past, present and future in ways I will never know, perhaps never understand. But stand I with them.
With that in mind, I will make it through the night.