“Stop your constant chatter. And scoot back, I’m trying to drive here.”
My passenger doesn’t seem to hear me—or care, at least about my driving. He’s more interested in getting me to pay attention to him.
I picked up this rather annoying passenger just after setting my 2014 goals a few weeks ago at my personal planning retreat. I thought I had Enthusiasm riding with me then. Somewhere along the way, Enthusiasm ended up in the back and I have a new front seat companion now. (Truth be told, I think Fear grabbed enthusiasm by the collar and pulled him back there.)
And now he’s angling for the drivers seat. Inch by inch, Fear encroaches on my space. He wants the wheel so he can pull over and play it safe. He’s convinced that the business and ministry pursuits I’m planning are hopelessly unachievable. And he wants to protect me from myself.
My passenger makes some good points. I’ve never done half the stuff I’m pursuing this next year. The chances of failure are high. I could be wasting a lot of time. My efforts might be more effective elsewhere.
That last one gives me pause. My foot lets up a little on the gas. He withdraws a bit and smiles.
I know that look. I’ve surrendered to it many times. If I pull over now I’ll only experience the mediocrity and discontent that comes from living less than God intended.
My foot presses down on the gas again. While I don’t know what lies ahead, I already know what the side of the road looks like. And I choose the road ahead, passenger and all.
“We gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.” —Eleanor Roosevelt
Do you have any traveling companions?