Have you ever had an experience that unexpectedly opened your eyes to who you are, and you found that you were sick and tired of yourself and completely ready to change?  Recently I had that experience.

It might seem silly to some, but I believe it was life changing.  Saturday night I went ice skating, something I’ve loved to do since I was a little child.  All through the evening little glimpses of what I was going to discover came to my attention, but I did not see them for what they were until afterwards. 

Carlos was with my group though he had never skated before. Still, he gamely got in line to get his skates, put them on, and hit the ice.  He fell a few times, but by the end of the night he was doing pretty well and having a good time.  I was thinking as we walked in that, if I had not learned to skate when I was a little girl, I probably wouldn’t have tried it at this age. 

You see, all of my life I have been ruled by fear.  In general, I dislike trying new things.  I don’t make friends quickly.  I hate talking to strangers.  I don’t like driving some place I’ve never been before.  These, and countless other issues, have kept me in an almost constant state of nervousness. 

I have learned to make the huge knot in my stomach go away by sitting on the sidelines and watching, telling myself and everyone else that I was happier there. (I had convinced myself.) So for me to try ice skating at this point in my life, if I had not had any previous experience, would be extremely unlikely.   

I had no problems getting into the flow again.  It all came back.  The newness settled in when I was suddenly no longer in control.  Anthony appeared out of nowhere and started pushing me from behind.  He wasn’t trying to push me down, only to make me go faster, but, the instant I lost control of my own movement, I panicked.  I yelled for him to let go.  I wasn’t angry, just scared.  And when I saw a huge group of people ahead of us, and realized I had no control over whether I hit them or not, the panic grew so large that I forgot to keep myself balanced.  I fell.  It wasn’t a hard fall; in fact, I laughed the whole way down.  Yet through the laughing a little voice inside said “At least now you’re back in control of yourself.” 

After the fall, I started thinking.  How stupid of me to be willing to try something like skating, but not bowling.  You see, I’ve only bowled once, and when I felt like I wasn’t doing well I gave up.  I’ve spent quite a few nights sitting in a bowling alley watching my friends, but never getting out there myself.  The stupidity of this hit me full force.  I made a promise to myself, and then to my friends, that the next time they go bowling, I will bowl. A mini-breakthrough - it was preparing me for what was to come.

Later, Anthony started pulling people, getting them going fast, then letting go so they could fly along on their own.  Everyone tried it but me, I just couldn’t do it.  But I could tell that it was fun, and part of me wanted to try.  I said that if the crowd thinned I might try it.  As the crowd did indeed begin to thin, I was half excited, half in dread.  Finally I said, “Okay.”  The first time it was difficult letting Anthony take control of our speed.  I slowed us down, trying to regain some control.  When I let go, I flew just like the others had.  I did not fall.  It was a great feeling.  So I asked to try it again.  This time I tried to let him have full control, and succeeded in going faster than before. 

Then came the real test.  He told me to do it again, but close my eyes.  I tried.  I did. Yet every time I felt a curve coming, they would open of their own accord.  If I felt him shift to the right or left, I opened my eyes to see what obstacle was in the way.  We went around a couple of times, and I never managed to make it with my eyes shut. 

The last time around I was getting exasperated.  How could a person do that?  Give up full control of themselves on something as dangerous as an ice skating rink?  Inside my head I raged mildly at Anthony and the others who had been successful at this game.  “I’m not that kind of person!” I told myself. “I’m cautious!  That’s a good thing.” 

Then Anthony’s voice came in my ear, a little bit aggravated, “Keep them closed! I’m not going to let you fall!”  In that moment, I felt God whisper to my heart, “And neither will I!” 

I squeezed my eyes shut, we picked up speed, and Anthony said “Keep them shut! I’m going to sling you.  When I let go, wait a spilt second before you open them, okay?”  I stopped breathing.  

He let me go, and I flew for a second or two, no sight, only speed and wind.  My eyes came open a fraction of a second before he yelled “Now! Open them!”  And what the others might have thought was watering from the wind in my face was actually the formation of tears in my eyes.  To them it might not have been so hard, but letting go with my eyes closed was the hardest thing I could think of in that moment.  And I had done it.

For the rest of the night and all the next day I thought of ways that fear has ruled my life.  I realized, in a way that I never had before, that it has affected absolutely everything I do and don’t do.  It has kept me off of roller coasters, it has kept me from learning to swim, and it has kept me from jumping into the middle of my chosen career with both feet.  It has kept me from making friends with people that I wanted to meet.  It has kept me from enjoying sports and games and activities that others enjoy.  But more frightening than that, it has kept me from being all that God wants me to be.

I’ve felt for a while now that God is calling me to something specific.   I believe I know what it is.  Yet fear of the unknown, of being wrong, of imagining a call of God because I thought too highly of myself, of being incapable, incompetent, of failing, has kept me from embracing it.  I’ve rationalized in my own head that I’m waiting for reassurance that it’s really what I’m supposed to do.  I’ve blamed circumstances, situations, and tried to justify why I wasn’t doing what I knew all along I needed to do.  I’ve missed opportunities, turned my back on God’s voice, and wasted so many years.

Fear has also limited my ability to trust God for His perfect plan for my future.  Oh, I’ve prayed, proclaimed, and actually believed that I’d given God everything, that I’d truly laid it all out for Him to take care of.  I’ve prayed, “Lord, take my life, use it for Your glory, and do with it whatever You will.  I trust You to plan my life; to lead me where You want me to go.”  Yet still I made my own plans, sought my own desires first, and kept back a part of the control, never admitting to myself that I was working on a fallback plan just in case He failed.

Yet He’s not going to fail.  Just like Anthony would not let me fall, God is not going to let me fall.  And I wonder how many times He’s had an aggravated tone in His voice when He talked to me, reassured me, comforted me.  Surely He has said, “Haven’t I proved myself to you?  Not just through stories that others tell, but through my divine working in your life?  Do you not see what I have done so far?  How could you not trust Me to see you through?”

Amid this new revelation the preacher made a comment in his sermon that struck home with me.  He said that Satan only tries to keep us bound because he knows our potential.  The Bible says that God has not given us a spirit of fear (II Timothy 1:7).  This fear that has bound me is the only thing the devil has to keep me from being the powerful woman of God that he knows I am destined to be.  I refuse to let him bind me any more.

Why God chose to bring this revelation into my life in this way, I do not know. An epiphany on an ice skating rink is probably a little unusual.  All I know is that I feel a freedom in my soul that I cannot describe.  I do not have to be bound by fear!  No matter how great or how small, there is nothing that I cannot do if God is with me. 

Ideas abound in my head: the things I want to try in my day-to-day life, the places I want to go, the people I want to meet, the experiences that I want to enjoy.  In my walk with God, the possibilities stretch out before me, limitless. 

I am ready to live my life the way He wants me to live it: fully, joyfully, and without fear.

© 2006, Jessica Short

---------

Jessica Short is a preacher’s kid from Tulsa, Oklahoma currently in her final semester at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock where she will soon graduate with a Bachelor’s degree in Interpretation: ASL/English.  She works as a freelance sign language interpreter in the Little Rock area and attends the First Pentecostal Church of Gravel Ridge, AR.  Most recently she tackled her fears by agreeing to start a preteen Sunday school class and eating lunch for the first time in the staff lounge at one of her job sites, surrounded by a hundred (okay, maybe 20) people she didn’t know.