A role instead of refuge

I used to beg God for safety.

Safety felt holy. It felt right. It felt like the proof of His presence, like a hedge of protection meant He was pleased with me, like the absence of pain meant I was favored. I didn’t want much. Just for the storms to calm. For the ground beneath my feet to stop shaking. For the tears to dry. For the ache in my chest to finally, finally let up.

But the storms didn’t cease.

The ground cracked wide open.

The tears came like tides.

And the ache? It became a second heartbeat.

I thought I was forgotten.

But I wasn’t.

I was called.

Sometimes, God doesn’t hand you a shelter.

He hands you a sword.

Sometimes, He doesn’t say, “Peace, be still.”

He says, “Go.”

I wanted refuge.

But He gave me a role.

I wanted safety.

But He gave me an assignment.

I didn’t understand it at first. I still don’t, not entirely.

I walk through fire and ask for rain.

I sit in the dark and ask for light.

And instead of escape, He gives me a map.

Instead of rescue, He gives me resolve.

Instead of pulling me out, He walks me through.

He didn’t calm the lion’s den.

He called Daniel to kneel in it.

He didn’t put out the flames.

He stood in the furnace beside the three.

He didn’t remove the cup from Jesus.

He sent angels to strengthen Him for the cross.

This… this might be one of those moments.

Where the miracle is not that the storm is stopped,

But that I am sent into it with holy fire in my bones.

I wanted to be held.

But He handed me a burden.

I wanted the war to be over.

But He made me a warrior.

So I carry this assignment in trembling hands.

I whisper yes through gritted teeth.

I show up to the battlefield with scars still healing. And somehow, that’s enough for Him.

He doesn’t wait for me to be unbroken.

He just asks me to be willing.

Maybe the safest place is not the one where nothing can touch me.

Maybe it’s the center of His will, even if it breaks me open.

Even if it sends me where I never wanted to go.

Even if it costs me everything.

Because this assignment?

It is sanctified.

And this pain?

It is purposeful.

And this calling?

It is not easy, but it is eternal.

So here I am, God.

No guarantees. No umbrella. No promised ease.

But I’m still saying yes.

Even if it costs my comfort.

Even if I walk with a limp.

Even if I don’t make it out unscathed.

Sometimes we don’t get safety…

We get sent.

And maybe that’s the holier thing.