How Big Is Your Brave?

I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Your brave? Is it where you function? God says “this” and you say “yes! Watch!”  

Or does your conversation sound more like me and more like Moses? All the reasons I didn’t hear God properly. All the  ways we aren’t right for the job. All the ways we will fail. 

As it turns out my brave is considerably underdeveloped. God gives me marching orders, and I’m rooted to the same spot, unable to take a step. This isn’t who I want to be. So my shoulders droop and I wonder why God ever thought to use me. 
I’d like to say I’m all done being this way, thus sparks the muse to write this post. But really, I’m smack dab in the middle of it. I’ve only grown enough to know it’s a problem. 
But it’s something, and I’m grasping on. I’m terrified of so many things. But I’m standing. And you know what I’m finding? God is good with it. 
He meets me. He doesn’t stand on a mountain and say I can only have a piece of him if I can make it to the top. He doesn’t withhold. Instead he keeps layering me up. Like me with sarcasm at the end of an especially hard day, he lays it on awfully thick. He’s punchy with grace and patience. 
When we confess with our mouth that we aren’t enough, it makes space for God who is. So let’s be done beating ourselves up for being scaredy cats. Instead let’s take Joyce Meyer’s advice, and do it afraid. 
What is it that you’ve been too scared to do? Where is your brave needing to bulk up in muscle? I would love to pray for you, friend.