I have a lot of
philosophies and beliefs about life. By no means do I have things figured out.
Just like everyone else, I grow and change all the time; as I do, my
convictions evolve. But there are a few things that I believe to my very core,
whether I want to or not. Sometimes it takes convincing and a talking-into (so
to speak), but sometimes I just know what’s true—oftentimes, this truth goes
against what I raised to believe and what other people and society tout as true
or wise. That can be discouraging or difficult and sometimes it leads to me
doubting myself and my beliefs, but more often than not, it just strengthens my
resolve because I put little faith in the wisdom of man. That, though, is a
story for another day.
Anyway, one of the things
I believe is in regards to fear. I truly believe that fear, or living in fear,
is a choice. Sure, there are times when fear is a completely natural reaction
to something going on in life. That’s totally normal and healthy. But making
decisions based on perceived fears is definitely not healthy. I’m not saying
you shouldn’t prepare, that you should just leap before you look, live with no
plan or care—definitely not. I am a firm believer in researching and planning,
doing your best to prepare for what you can, but I also believe in faith.
It seems to me that fear
(in most cases) is a lack or absence of faith. It’s putting the possibility of
one negative thing above the possibility of a good (and even promised) thing.
The main thing I’m talking about here, if you haven’t guessed already, is
money.
Drew and I got married
young. We were both 20 and neither of us were done with school. I didn’t have a
job. We didn’t have a place of our own. We had little compared to what most
people think you should have when you get married, but we were rich in other
things: love, faith, family, and hope for a lovely future together. We made our
plans small; small goals, small ambitions. Basically, we just wanted to
financially survive for the first few years. After that, we figured we’d have a
house, I’d have graduated and found a job, and we could begin living life the
way most people our age did—fun trips, figuring out a house, just spending time
being us and being together. That was our goal and our own version of
happiness.
Fast-forward almost four
years. We own a home. We are both done with school. We are very happy together
and have experienced so much together, as a team. But we definitely are not
where we thought we’d be. I have yet to find a job. He’s not doing the job he wanted
to be doing at this point (yet). And, we have a baby on the way! It’s a lot to
process since, financially, we are already behind where we thought we’d be and
wish we were. Adding a child to the mix really was not what we had planned.
Babies were going to be added years down the road, after financial comfort was
achieved, along with a career started and more degrees earned.
But in typical life
fashion, that’s not how it happened.
How does that apply to
fear vs. faith?
Well, when we got engaged,
we were urged from practically every side (family, friends, peers, teachers,
random people) to wait. Just wait. Wait til you’re done with school. Wait til
you’re older. Wait til you understand what marriage means. Wait, wait, wait.
Just wait!
Initially, we intended to.
We thought it may not be wise to get married when we were still so young and
didn’t have the money (money, money, money, it’s always coming up, right?). But
we still had our faith and our faith whispered something different… a different
way of thinking about it… Money or love? Love or money? Which would we rather
have? Would I rather save money and take a few years off of my marriage or
would I rather have those years as a solid foundation and have less money? Why
were we so afraid of money when God’s perspective on money is pretty clear:
it’s not important and he’ll provide for us. It then became a fear vs. faith
issue. Which principle did we want to live by? Our decision, we felt, would set
the tone for our lives and our marriage.
When it came down to it,
the answer seemed simple. We value love and faith above something as silly and
temporary as money. So we made the plans we needed to prepare for our life
together, took each other’s hands, and jumped, together, into the life we
believe was planned for us.
Looking back, I realize
it’s still a controversial decision. Most people would disagree with our choice
and our reasoning for it. Most people would think we were crazy. But, honestly,
we don’t care. We don’t live our lives to please people (especially most people). We live our lives for our
God and ourselves. To us, that meant a very obvious act of faith—getting
married.
Now, in a sense, we are in
a very similar situation. As I said, we aren’t where we thought we’d be. I have
yet to find a job, a job that would bring about a nice cushion in our finances…
and we have a baby coming next year.
Almost four years ago, we
made a choice to live a life of faith not a life of fear. Today, we are making
the same choice.
It’s hard. Everywhere we
turn, it seems, there is something to discourage us—friends, family, the news,
the world—FEAR. It creeps up in random moments, changes conversations that
should be focused on happiness and hopefulness to ones of fears and “what ifs.”
But I say, we’re done. We’ll
plan. We’ll prepare. We’ll budget. We’ll do what we need to do and all the
things we can do, but at the end of the day, I refuse to give in, to be afraid,
to lose my faith in God’s provision. He has plans, better and bigger plans. He has
overcome. He has love. He has us. And we have him. So we choose faith. Because that’s
a choice. Our choice. And that’s so much better than any amount of money.
What’s coming will come,
and we’ll have each other regardless. And what could be better?
