Photo by Jordan Christian on Unsplash

Twenty-two years ago, on Sept. 11, 2001, I sat with a friend and asked if maybe I would be wrong to bring children into the world.  I had recently gotten married, and I wanted nothing more than to be home with babies.  But towers had tumbled and men, women, even children had died.  Perhaps the sorrows and terrors my children would face in their lives would be too much for them (and for me).  Maybe it was selfish of me to want babies to cuddle.  “Oh, Jett,” my friend said, “bringing babies into this world is an act of faith, a declaration that you believe in a God who still does good in an evil world.”

So I leapt.  I brought four beautiful declarations of light into a world of darkness.  (Not to suggest I leapt alone.  Their father and The Father definitely played a part in the decision.)

And now I watch my children begin to take their own leaps.  They step into college.  They step into foreign countries.  They step behind the wheel and into dating and working.  Two of them are braver than the other two, but even those who are more cautious can surprise me with courageous moments.  I am thrilled—and frightened—each time they try a new thing.

Here is my point.  There are going to be times when taking a baby step, much less a grown-up leap,  seems terrifying.  There are decisions to make.  Should I marry him?  Should I move away?  Should I quit this job?  Should I wait just a little longer before…  And the answers won’t be clear.  Either choice might be good.  Either choice might be bad.  But a choice has to be made.  The timing won’t be sure.  God’s voice won’t be loud.  Everyone has a different opinion.  What will we do?

Cast your bread on the surface of the waters, for you will find it after many days. Divide your  portion to seven, or even to eight, for you do not know what misfortune may occur on the earth.  If the clouds are full, they pour out rain upon the earth; and whether a tree falls toward the south or toward the north, wherever the tree falls, there it lies. He who watches the wind will not sow and he who looks at the clouds will not reap. Just as you do not know the path of     the wind and how bones are formed in the womb of the pregnant woman, so you do not know the activity of God who makes all things.

Sow your seed in the morning and do not be idle in the evening, for you do not know whether morning or evening sowing will succeed, or whether both of them alike will be good. ~Ecclesiastes 11: 1-6

Qoheleth says leap.  At least make a baby step.  We are humans designed by God, designed by Him to live freely, without the fear that we will make an unfixable mistake.  We live in a world held in the palm of His hand, and He ultimately opens or closes every door we walk through.  Rain is meant to fall.  Trees will certainly tumble.  And we are meant to cast our bread, divide our portion, and sow our seed.  In other words, to leap.  No matter what happens.

The Father would, of course, have us consult scripture and sound advisers.  Pray.  Make a list of pros and cons, if we need.  But we do not need to listen to fear.  It is beyond us to know how things will end.  How wonderful that we know the God who knows everything.  We trust Him with our eternal souls; why is it so hard to trust Him with earthly decisions?

We can trust Jesus when He tells us that the One who clothes the lilies and feeds the birds will clothe and feed us.  Of all men, Christ had the most reason for fear—His painful road was fixed.  Yet He set His face toward Calvary, believing that His Father’s will was best.  He leapt.

“Who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?” Jesus asks us (Matthew 6:28). “Will you stare at the sky, looking for a sign that may never appear?  Trust the Spirit to guide and never leave you.  Trust the Father to work it all out for good.  Trust Me to atone for any mistakes along the way.  Show the world your faith.  Be a declaration of light.”