When Bravery Feels Like Fear

Sometimes, bravery feels like fear. Can you think of a time when you were afraid but chose to act anyway? One of the scariest times of my life was in college when I decided to go on a mission trip to Haiti. Our pastor Dave was encouraging us to be uncomfortable with our comfortableness. Well,I was certainly uncomfortable because I had to leave the group I traveled with early and make an eight-hour journey south from St. Louis Du Nord to Port Au Prince with only an interpreter I didn’t know, just to make it back in time for a clinical internship. I was terrified, fearing the worst—that I might be taken hostage for ransom. Yet, despite my fear, I found the courage to move forward. At that moment, bravery felt a lot like fear.

Perhaps you’ve had similar experiences, where your courage felt more like fear. It reminds me of what Jesus faced after the Last Supper when He went to the Garden of Gethsemane. He knew what awaited Him: betrayal, suffering, and death on the cross. Luke 22:44 says, “And being in anguish, He prayed more earnestly, and His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” Here, we see our Savior in a moment of deep human fear. He even prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”

Jesus felt the full weight of what lay ahead, yet He did not let fear dictate His actions. His bravery must have felt like overwhelming fear. If He had listened to that fear more than to His sense of purpose, we would not be here today. Instead, He chose to trust His Father’s will, motivated by love for God and love for us.

As we take the bread and the cup today, remember that Jesus’ courage led Him to the cross. But the story did not end there—His courage in the face of fear led to the ultimate victory: victory over sin, over death, and over every power of darkness. When He walked out of the tomb, He gave us hope that no fear is too great and no pain too deep for God’s love to redeem.

So, if you’re facing a time when courage feels a lot like fear, take heart. Jesus understands that feeling. His example shows us that true courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision to trust God’s plan, even when we don’t know what lies ahead. As we eat and drink, may we draw strength from His sacrifice, and remember that because of His victory, we too can face our fears with hope and assurance.

Prayer:

Father, You are the Master of all emotions. You have felt them all. Help us, Lord, to choose what is right and true, even when our hearts are trembling. Help us to trust Your plan, knowing that Your love is greater than our fears, and may our love for you and others be way louder than the fear. Help us to be uncomfortable with our comfortableness. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Marvelous Light!

Marvelous Light

As we prepare for communion this morning, let’s reflect on the song we just sang, *Marvelous Light*. This week, I spent a lot of time meditating on its words. At first, they felt like just words—maybe because I was distracted by work and life. But as I prayed and kept the song in my heart, the meaning began to take root.

The opening line says, *“I once was fatherless.”* This reminded me of when life was all about me—when I pursued my will instead of God’s. Johnny Chang, an ex-gang member who turned his life around through Christ, said that living for ourselves leads to destruction. We can see this in the headlines today, where the "all-about-me" mindset often leads to tragedy.

*“Your kindness wakens me, Your love beckons deeply.”* Christ’s love stirs something within us. It draws us toward the cross, where we find true life. His love pulls us away from chasing our own desires and points us to something greater.

*“Sin has lost its power.”* This doesn’t happen by us trying harder to avoid sin. Instead, it happens when we see temptation as a chance to show God our love. Grace weakens sin’s grip.

Death has lost its sting because, in Christ, we know death is not the end. We are alive forever in Him!

Running into His marvelous light isn’t just an emotional moment—it’s a daily choice to turn away from our self-centered ways and live for Christ. Out of darkness, out of shame, we stop following our appetites and start following Him, forming new, Christ-centered habits.

*“By the cross.”* This isn’t just about following a great teacher. It’s about following the God who raised Christ from the dead. It’s about living by His truth, not by our feelings.

Living this way takes relentless practice and effort. Coming to the communion table is a time to recharge and refocus. We won’t always feel like lifting our hands or celebrating, but as we grow in Him, those moments of joy will come more often. We’ll realize more fully that we’re living in His marvelous light.

Let’s pray:

Father, we thank You for the cross and for Christ’s victory. Thank You for the truth that sets us free. We confess the times we’ve been spiritually asleep, following our own will. Help us to live by Your cross, walking in Your marvelous light. In Jesus’ name, Amen.