I seem to have overlooked an important detail in the whole Warrior thing.
To be a warrior, to stand up for stuff, to take risks– all of those things will bring pain, heartache, and loss. And that, believe me, is no fun.
So when I made “Warrior” my word of the year, I was intending for it to help me be stronger, more confident, and bold. What I didn’t see coming was the stuff it takes to get you there.
The comfort of my corner is gone.
I stand on the battlefield. No, strike that, I kneel on the battlefield, not able to stand any longer, and I take note of my wounds.
The world, it would appear, turns out to be a harsh, unforgiving place. Lonely at times. Endless. Heavy.
And those are not the things my sweet optimism likes to think about. But warriors think about those things. They have to. The luxury of sitting back and letting others handle the problems and fix things is gone. Warriors engage, and they pay the price for that.
As I’ve gotten older, my engaging reflex has been dulled by my fear of doing it the wrong way. Lots of things in life lose their edge like that. You enter a contest and don’t place, so the next time you don’t try. You talk with someone about a problem, and they don’t listen, so you stop talking. You share a struggle and get put down, so you run and hide.
It’s as if the actions’s success is solely dependent on the outcome, but I think I’ve been getting that all wrong. Maybe the action’s success is found solely in that it was tried. Positive outcomes are never guaranteed, and they can’t be the only reason we take a risk to do the right thing. The world is harsh. People can be mean. Contests will be lost.
But the warrior doesn’t stop there.
I thought it would be easy. I was wrong. There’s nothing easy about any of this. It hurts in the here and now, but I think it’s worth it. It’s worth it because it’s us becoming more like Him. It’s how we’re meant to be. We are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved. (Hebrews 10:39)
I’m not going to do it all right or even well at times, but that’s not what makes me a warrior. I’m a warrior because I did it at all. I tried, and although I wanted to give up, I didn’t.