I would ask for our fear to be removed. If you're wondering what I'm looking for, I think that's what I'd prefer -- for you to cut the fear right out from underneath our skin and toss it as far as possible.
But my humanity keeps repeating itself and my fear comes right along with it. Even if you removed my fear, I know after some length of time I'd simply rip out the stitches from where you unfastened it, and shove it right back inside of me.
I'm stubborn and foolish. I'll go ahead and admit that.
I do this so often: asking you to take my burdens, and you do. And then I yank them back and clutch them tighter than I did before. I trust my burdens and fears more than I trust you. Why is this? Why do I convince myself they're comfortable?
You are not comfortable. But when I search my heart I know I would never be satisfied with serving a comfortable God. You are not comfortable, but you are good. You are bold, and good, and not comfortable. Because of you, I am stretched and emboldened and am not comfortable either.
I shouldn't be comfortable in this world though, should I? This isn't my home.
May I ask you to make me bolder than I currently am.
May I ask you to make me braver than I ever could be.
May I ask you to fill me up with a courage that can only come from you.
And may my life be a blazing testament of your glory, oh God.
"For God is great, and God is here." Isaiah 12:6