For fear of suffering the consequences or suffering a setback, some “suffer fools gladly.” They decide early on to stay in their place, stay put, in their lane, on the sidelines, or just stay out of it.
Sometimes, we get in our own way before we even know where we are going. Two left feet, we step on our toes. Defeated before we even meet our foes, we drag our feet instead of showing up fully in the world.
Soren Kierkegaard said, “To dare is to lose one’s footing momentarily. To not dare is to lose oneself.”
Yet, we get cold feet. Before anything is attempted, we choose to avoid it altogether.
Afraid to jump in with both feet, we stay at the shallow end of our identity. But Carl Jung reminded us, “There is no coming to consciousness without pain.” If we will be anything at all, then we will suffer for it.
Still, we must decide like Zora Neale Hurston, who said, “I have the nerve to walk my own way, however hard, in my search for reality, rather than climb the rattling wagon of wishful illusions.” Frederick Douglass asserted the same before her, “I prefer to be my true self, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false and incur my own abhorrence.”
We cannot discount the pain of the past or its ability to hurt the present. However, we can decide to put one foot in front of the other, to defy the odds daily with minor personal rebellions, to gain ground by slowly but surely making room for ourselves.
I will not lie to you. We do suffer for leaving our socially assigned categories in search of our true selves.
You and I will lose friends and family members in our attempt to cover “the cost of discipleship” and will still come up short. You will often stand alone. You will also become painfully aware of the answer to Jesus’ question, “Will you leave me too” (John 6.67)?
For this reason, some tread lightly in relationships with others and even themselves. But, in the end, they do not leave an impression or their mark on the world.
Their footprints are not even in the sand because they have summarily concluded they’ll be washed away as soon as the tide comes in. “No one is going to remember me anyway.” “Nothing I do really matters.”
Like the first disciples, they don’t want to wake Jesus. Instead, they fuss at themselves and others in hushed tones.
They close their eyes to what is possible and never venture beyond what has been done. Some of us refuse to even stick our toe in the water for fear of causing the slightest ripple.
Consequently, these voices are drowned out by the Peters and Petras of the world, who leave the comfort of the box-boat, learn that Jesus is Lord of the wind and the waves, and that we, too, can walk on water. Like the disciples, they won’t even take the first step, not even to check the temperature of the water.
Instead, they resort to screaming at Jesus. “Don’t you care if we drown” (Mark 4.38, NIV)? This question misses the point of the journey entirely.
Note: They won’t test the water, but they will test Jesus. They refuse to talk back to the tempest, but demand Jesus do it for them.
They live hesitantly and fear retaliation from the future. They are afraid of what could be, of what would happen, of what people might say. But not rocking the boat does not ensure smooth sailing.
Be encouraged, as Gloria Anzaldua has given us directions: “Voyager, there are no bridges; one builds as one walks.” Such is the way to ourselves, which is why I say, “Take me to the water.”
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Director of The Raceless Gospel Initiative, an associate editor, host of the Good Faith Media podcast, “The Raceless Gospel” and author of Take Me to the Water: The Raceless Gospel as Baptismal Pedagogy for a Desegregated Church.