I don’t follow my heart.
I did once. It ended well, sometimes. Other times, it crashed and burned. It is only a human heart, you see. It breaks and blunders. Its scars turn to stone. It doesn’t know, it just feels.
I don’t chase my dreams.
Oh, I did once. I trampled on others and kicked leg-ups in the teeth clawing my way to where I wanted to be. But my dreams are all about me, you see. And when you’re the only one on top, you’re all alone. When I got there it was only to find it wasn’t what I’d wanted after all; to descend in agony and bruises, only to climb up on top of others again to get to another useless, fruitless dream.
I don’t believe in myself.
I have tried. But I’m just a person, you see. I failed. I broke. I wounded and was wounded; I was a vessel of darkness and even today there are shadows in my soul. I have hated and prided myself and ashamed. I have crawled through the miserable depths of sin and been bogged down in the maggoty mire of my own making. I’m not good enough. I don’t have what it takes.
And that’s okay.
I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to trust myself.
I don’t have to trust my fickle, fumbling heart because I don’t follow my heart. I follow Jesus.
I follow Someone Who spans the full and entire length and breadth of the glorious spectrum between might and tenderness. He does not break and He does not blunder. He feels with keenest agony the tiniest pains, and with deepest pleasure the tiniest joys, of the world, but He also knows. He knows all. He sees the full and entire plan, the big picture, the great scheme on which the world turns because it’s His. And He acts out of the abundantly overflowing goodness and righteousness and mercy of His Heart. And I follow that.
I don’t have to believe in my dreams because I don’t chase my dreams, I surrender to God’s plan.
I drown in the joy of His dream for the world. I immerse myself in the unchanging core of His calling: to bring a healing, loving God to a hurting, hating world. I am part of a mighty war, a passionate soldier amid the shining ranks of men and angels that hold back the tides of darkness. I give over all that I am to my Beloved Saviour; I feel His Spirit grab hold of me and drench me with fire and gold. I witness Him touch the world with my hands and feel my lips form His Words. I see the Light pour from me upon the dark world.
Above all, I don’t have to entrust my faith and confidence to a fallen and fragile human being like myself. Because I don’t believe in myself.
I believe in Jesus Christ.
I believe in a God Who made the world and stretched out the sky like a curtain, Who clothed a horse in thunder and commands the storms to still. He breathed life into the lungs of mankind and set a rainbow in the sky for the symbol of a merciful promise. To Him stones shall sing; for Him every knee will bow; the sky shall split open and the earth shrivel up and blow away on the wind of His coming. He created, He was born, He wept, He gave, He redeemed, He healed, He forgave, He died. He rose. He lives eternally. He is holy, almighty, unstoppable. His love stretches higher than the sun and goes deeper than space; His love knows no end, no boundaries, no conditions; His love cannot be tamed or defined or fit into any box you give it except your heart.
I follow the God that so loved the world He gave His Son to die for us. And I surrender to Him. And I drink from the fountain of pure joy. And I weather the storms in safety. Ten thousand fall beside me but I stand because He is in me. I fail a thousand times and He raises me up over and over.
So no, I don’t believe in myself. I believe in God.
And He is right here. In me.