A long time ago, in a far-away place—or so it seems—but, it was actually when we had two small children, Robert was in seminary in Atlanta, and we lived in student family housing. Our apartment building had six connected units lined up side-by-side. The building was perpendicular to the parking lot, so the family in the sixth unit had to pass all five others to get to their car, class, or anywhere, except in the woods.
On the other side of the sidewalk, was a strip of grass that was narrowed near the parking lot and edged by a wooded lot. A playground nestled in the trees.
It was a supportive community. Mothers visited while children played hop scotch, rode big wheels, rolled down the hill, or climbed monkey bars. Birds chirped and squirrels chased each other through tree tops It was a perfect setting to rear children.
Apparently, a squirrel thought so too. He decided to build a nest on a limb that hung over the sidewalk between apartment #1 and the playground. (Note: Male squirrels build the nests, but don’t help with the babies.) He was the center of attention as he gathered twigs and scampered down the limb to weave them into a nest.
Every time we went down the sidewalk, we looked for our new friend and checked the nest for progress. Everybody anticipated baby squirrels scampering about, and he became the topic of conversation.
But there was a problem. Twelve adults and approximately twenty-five children passed under the limb every time they went anywhere—and most families made multiple trips daily. Furthermore, big wheels, tricycles, and bikes made their turn-around just beyond that limb. There was a lot of traffic under the nest.
It complicated the squirrel’s progress. If he was on the limb and somebody got too close, he’d freeze, flattening himself from his nose to the tip of his tail, trying to disappear. He resumed work only after he knew danger had passed.
We limited bikes, big wheels, and play time on that end of the sidewalk. But, life continued, and we couldn’t stay indoors. The sidewalk was our entrance to the world.
After each interruption, the squirrel stayed frozen in place longer and longer. We wondered if the nest would be ready in time for babies that were likely on the way.
Then, one day, we didn’t see the squirrel. We watched for days, but he was gone.
We had been rooting for the squirrel, eagerly awaiting the babies he prepared for. We didn’t wish him harm. But that didn’t matter. The squirrel left because of imagined danger.
Were there babies? Were they cute? Did they survive? We don’t know. He was gone.
What I do know is that I’ve been like that squirrel. At times I’ve been uncomfortable, froze, and wished to disappear. The risk seemed too great to venture forth. I preferred to hide. To stay quiet. I was frightened by perceived danger.
I’m not proud to say that it’s happened when I’ve had an opportunity to share the hope and joy within me, to witness of God’s goodness. Fears of being too forceful, strong, or offensive caused me to hesitate, or stay quiet, rather than sharing the joy that is within me.
However, when I give in to imagined fear, it costs me. I know I’ve disappointed God, and missed the chance to plant seeds toward building the kingdom of God. cOver the years, I’ve grown better at seeing that my fears are mostly fantasy fears. They’re baseless and costly. I’ve learned that if God opens a door, He’ll be with me to walk through it.
Consequently, with a prayer that I can be a blessing to someone else in spite of my discomfort, I try to hold tightly to God’s hand and venture forth.
When I make that choice, God is always with me. I’ve forged new friendships, grown in confidence in God and myself. Furthermore, I’ve missed God’s blessing and my opportunity to bless others, along with the joy and satisfaction from seeing God at work in somebody else’s life.
Recognizing danger is important to avoid harm. However, if we let it, imagined danger distracts and prevents us from attaining God’s goals and experiencing fullness of life, as well as receiving God’s blessing.
On the other hand, mustering courage to walk through fearful situations opens opportunities to grow in the Lord, know Him better, and participate in building His kingdom.
As Philip Nation said, “The mission of God is never advanced by men & women of caution. Count the cost. Take the leap of faith. Risk it all.””
Lord, give us courage and strength to not be like the squirrel on the limb, but to walk forward in faith and not be hindered by imagined fears.