Palazzo pants and new boots don’t mix.
Not when I’m in a rush to get to work and I’m holding my teacher bag, over-stuffed purse, tumbler filled with water, and my keys.
Not when I’m trying to balance it all and get my ID badge ready to swipe the card-reader so I can get to my classroom in time to set up for the first round of 7th graders.
Because when one boot catches the leg of those pants, disaster strikes.
And everything – I mean everything – goes flying forward, and I end up face first in the concrete.
Now before you go feeling sorry for me, it could’ve been worse. I was in the drop-off lane, after all. Thankfully no minivan-driving, momma-on-a-mission came barreling through at that particular moment.
The moment of unbridled embarrassment.
And that’s a good thing, because tears welled up. My head pounded. If someone had pulled up at that point, I know the waterworks would’ve burst through.
It’s not that I was hurt beyond a few scrapes and bruises. I’m just a crier.
When stress comes, I cry.
When I’m overwhelmed, I cry.
When I’m running late and juggling responsibilities and wishing for a few more minutes of sleep, I cry.
As I sat there on my knees gathering my spilled life from the street, my mind flashed back to my 16-year-old self.
Cheer tryouts – climbing up, up, up as my two friends hoisted me into the air. But the higher I reached, the more my mind reeled over this thought.
What if I fall?
And sure enough, with a big gust of wind my knees buckled. Down. I. Went.
One broken wrist and a somewhat cool cast later, I resolved never to climb that high again.
I was afraid to fall.
If only I had courage like this woman in Scripture. We don’t even know her name, yet her bold move showed the kind of character that inspires us all.
Twelve long years of sickness. No doubt she’d tried everything. She’d spent all she had, seen countless doctors, and possibly endured well-meaning advice from friends and family.
Yet she still bled.
So she did the one thing that took the most courage of all. She pressed through the crowd. Notice her state-of-mind as she came to Jesus.
…trembling with fear…
But she didn’t let that stop her. She learned an important lesson that day. One we can learn from her story as well.
Don’t let the fear of falling keep you from trying again.
When I fall at something, my first inclination is to mark that very thing off my list. If I’ve fallen once, I’m bound to fall again, right? But faith means pressing through those dreaded what-ifs and trying again.
In #fearfightingbook, my friend Kelly puts it this way.
“Fear may soon become your springboard to unshakeable faith.”
If the woman hadn’t found the confidence to approach Jesus, she may have stayed hidden away in her home for the rest of her days, never knowing the unmatched love of her Savior.
Will we stay hidden away? Or will we dare to reach again?
Let’s be like the healed woman. Let’s not allow the fear of falling to dictate our direction. We can only imagine the miracles God has planned for us when we overcome our fears.
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I did climb back on top of that cheer pyramid – cast and all. (I wish I had a picture to show you.)
So the next time our wardrobe doesn’t cooperate or the gravity of life pulls our feet right out from under, let’s find the faith it takes to get back up again.
Jesus is there waiting for us to reach out with unshakeable faith.
Kristine
If you'd like more information about the book Fear Fighting mentioned in this post, you can find out more by clicking here. You can read more inspiring words from the author, Kelly Balarie, at Purposeful Faith. I know you'll be blessed by her encouragement.