Are you courageous?  Hmmm… well, how do you know?

Some sort of measurement must be used in order for you to answer that question.  Do you take risks?  Not just dumb ones, but those that are uncomfortable, benefit someone else, and may indeed cost you something.  Courage is fear that has said its prayers.¹

Am I courageous?  Sometimes.  I was a couple days ago anyway. First, let me set the scene for you.  On New Years’ Day, I drove to Riverside, California, to be with my older (76) sister who had fallen and broken her femur—a break that went along with multiple other fractures she had already sustained in her ribs and upper back.  Would the doctors do surgery, could they do surgery in her frail state?   There really was no good decision, but the decision was hers, and of course, she opted to risk the surgery, hoping it might alleviate some of the excruciating pain in her body.

Logging many hours at the hospital, I opted to stay nearby in a Hotwire-located hotel.  Turns out, that the hotel was in the old downtown area, and when the sun went down, the Festival of Lights came alive on the nearby streets.  Who knew?  It was beautiful.  Really.  The last night when I went for a late salad before returning to my room, I walked by not just light displays, but a pen with live reindeer.  On this night, the reindeer were tethered tightly to a fence, forced to stand in such a way that folks could take pictures, I guess.  The pair couldn’t turn their heads, they couldn’t lower their chins, and based on their gesticulations, they were uncomfortable as heck!  As I stood along the perimeter, looking at the one closest to us, I said to a guy standing next to me, ‘Free him!  Go ahead, let him go!’  While he agreed with me, he moved not a peg.  So, I jumped the perimeter, then the fence and untied the most uncomfortable reindeer, loosing him within his pen.  ‘Lady, wait—you can’t do that!’ First one security guard and then another came after me, but I scrambled back over the fences, pulled up my jacket hood, and disappeared quickly into the crowd. 

I didn’t care.  Silly as it sounds, I was proud of myself—poor animal.  Sometimes you gotta risk, and taking risk always involves some amount of courage in order to do the right thing.  Sometimes it might be costly.

Then today back at the hospital, there were several things that had to be done for Phyllis, my sister—not pleasant, and they would cause even more pain to her fragile body.  Choices.  Take a walk and leave it to the nurses and her doctor, or stay and see if I could bring comfort to her.  Somehow, I opted to stay, grasping both of her hands in mine, as she was turned onto her side, crying out in pain.  She looked in my eyes and said, ‘Why, oh why?  How much longer—this pain?’  She moaned, she cried out; it was horrible.  Trying to distract her, I began playing hymns from my i-phone, that she might listen and be transported to another place. 

Then a strange thing happened—her nurse, Moses from Kenya, began to sing along.  ‘They don’t play hymns anymore,’ he said, yet he knew the words.  Several piano renditions played through my little phone, with Moses quietly singing along; it felt like a most holy moment.   Then “When we all Get to Heaven” by Brad Paisley melodiously sounded forth and a wonderful thing happened—Phyllis, in her diminished state of great pain began to sing along with Moses and me.  What a moment!  There we were, the three of us singing words we had long known,  ‘Sing the wondrous love of Jesus, sing His mercy and His grace; in the mansions bright and blessed, he’ll prepare for us a place.  When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be!  When we all see Jesus, we’ll sing and shout the victory!’

Had I have opted to leave her with the nurse, I would have missed it—the holy moment of singing together—the three of us about Heaven.

Sometimes you gotta ‘man up’, you gotta take risks that might be potentially costly because it is the right thing to do, the God thing to do.  Why?  Because we are born for such moments!  And as Paul wrote, ‘whatever we do—whether in word or deed—we do all for the glory of God.’² The biggest, the greatest risk you take will be the one which you decide to invest more in God, risking things for his sake.  Start by asking God today, ‘what is it you would have me do for you today, this day in January, 2015?  Show me, God.’  Then do it.  Sometimes you just gotta … !

1 – Karl Barth

2 - Colossians 3.17