I have often shied away from the spotlight. Sometimes I have called it a preference. Sometimes wisdom. Sometimes humility. Sometimes discernment. And perhaps, at times, it has been those things. But honest self-reflection requires me to admit or, at least, consider that there may be other hidden things there as well, such as trauma or insecurity or fear or a sense of insufficiency or a learned instinct to stay unseen or a discomfort with being misunderstood or a suspicion of public visibility or even self-sabotage dressed in the language of caution. And perhaps it is not one of these things. Perhaps there are a million quiet, singular or multiple reasons why a person steps back when something within them is being invited to step forward. Who knows?
What I am certain of since I’ve taken this journey of daring to believe is that such reflections are not self-deprecation, nor an announcement of weakness, nor are they diminishing. They are simply an honest inquiry before God. They are the audacity to humble and the humility to be audacious. They are placing themselves not above God but correctly under Him. They are dethroning the self so that God can reign.
Lately, I have found deep joy, encouragement, and courage in seeing people take up the mantle of faith with boldness. Peers. People younger than me. People older than me. People who are more successful, more prominent, more established, and wiser. Even people who are still finding their way. And all in between. I see people speaking about faith in God in public, in business, in writing, in music, in communities, in boardrooms, in families, and in ordinary daily life.
Some are even leaving prominent careers or exposing their careers to public scrutiny, leaving familiar paths, and respected identities to follow what they believe is a calling from God. And I would be dishonest if I said that watching this does not stir something in me.
For one, it encourages me, gives me joy and fills me with courage.
And at the same time, I would be dishonest if I said that my own doubts and struggles about faith and calling do not stir something in me as well; revealing that doubt is part of my journey.
I wonder:
- Would I do the same?
- Would I leave what is familiar if God called me deeper?
- Would I be able to follow without needing the full map first?
- Would I speak when silence feels safer?
- Would I obey when obedience may cost me the image I have carefully managed?
- Would I step forward while still feeling unfinished?
These questions have made me think about the likes of Simon Peter and the other disciples of Christ. When Jesus called them, He did not hand them the full strategy. He did not explain every cost, every heartbreak, every failure, every miracle, every misunderstanding, every restoration, or every future demand of their obedience. He simply said, “Follow Me.” I imagine this in the colloquial language we use in my hometown. I imagine The Chosen One being ‘bra Ofentse’ coming to me and simply saying “A re vaye”. And somehow, that invitation was enough to begin. Yet even they were not perfect followers. They doubted. They misunderstood. They argued. They feared. They slept when they should have watched. Peter declared loyalty and still denied Christ. Thomas wrestled with belief. Others scattered when the cost became real.
And still, mercy did not discard them.
That is what humbles me. God’s call is for everyone, including those who feel uncertain or unworthy, which can help your audience feel accepted and hopeful. He does not only use the fearless. He does not only walk with those who have resolved every contradiction within themselves.
Sometimes grace calls a trembling person forward. Sometimes mercy keeps a questioning heart from collapsing. Sometimes love compels a person before confidence fully arrives.
So perhaps the question is not whether I have no doubt. Perhaps the better question is whether, even with doubt, I can still choose to be faithful, encouraging your audience to find strength in their imperfect journey. Whether I can bring the inquiry, the hesitation, the fear, the questions, the history, the insecurity, and the unfinished parts of myself before God and still say: “Lord, help me follow.”
This journal entry is to simply say that I am grateful for those taking up the mantle. And there are a few names that immediately come to mind, but it’s not about the individuals – it’s about the work in the Kingdom of God. I am grateful for those whose courage and honesty in sharing their doubts and calling become permission and encouragement for others in our community. I am grateful for you – those who remind us that faith in God is not meant to be hidden forever beneath professionalism, trauma, fear, respectability, or the desire to appear composed.
And as for me, even in the deep thoughts, even in the doubt, even in the inquiry, even in the becoming, I am grateful for this truth: I was saved by grace. I have been kept by mercy. And I pray to be compelled by love.
In closing.
Whatever you decide to do today, may it be pleasing to God.
One, Perfect Love.
Over and out.