Courage Comes in the “Letting”
By Ellen Seta
Psalm 31:24: “Let your heart take courage.”
There is more than one way to read that sentence.
We can focus primarily on obtaining the virtue the sentence exhorts us to strive for –
“Let your heart take courage.”
Or, we can focus primarily on one small word. One that is vital (though it may not immediately appear that way) to the rest of the imperative –
“Let your heart take courage.”
“To let…”
I think that this line from Psalms, when it is initially read, incites our desire to improve ourselves – to act and to “do” in order to gain, or perhaps to earn, this courage. But I believe that this line really implies that we should do something different. I believe it encourages us to receive. To allow. To rely.
It implies the action of Another affecting us in some way.
To “let” something happen requires trust, acceptance, docility, humility. This “letting” does not demand action on our part, but on Someone Else’s. “Letting” means allowing something to be done to us rather than us actively doing something ourselves.
“Letting” is receptive. It is us being still and allowing something outside of us to touch us, to change us.
The action on our part only begins after the “letting” has taken place. Sometimes, the fruit of this “letting” will manifest only through sacrifice. Sometimes it will instigate pain. Sometimes this receptivity will demand a giving up of certain things that we found comfortable, comforting, or even found to be a part of who we are.
Think about it - what keeps us from being courageous? Is it insecurity? Doubting our abilities? Ignoring our talents? False humility? Lack of trust? Fear? And how do we view these hindrances to our courage? Do we really view them as hindrances at all? Do we not allow them to sometimes start to define us?
Oftentimes, whether we want to believe it or not (or even realize it at all), these hindrances become like old friends who perpetuate our bad habits – friends we should distance ourselves from but we just simply never do for no concrete reason. They become our security blankets. The shame/hurt/negligence/sorry-for-myself attitude/name-a-negative all become too familiar and too easy to leave alone and brush aside and forget about. We let the wounds continue to fester and flare up here and there, because in the back of our minds we know that it’s gonna take some serious (and sometimes literal) blood, sweat and tears to really heal.
But we’re not made to sit and soak in our brokenness. That would be easier sometimes, but it would never be fulfilling.
“We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures. We are the sum of the Father’s love for us and our real capacity to become the image of His Son Jesus.”
…And this is where the “letting” comes into play. If we are to become the image of Jesus, we must let the Father in to repair what’s been broken. He desires that we let our hearts take courage. And, let’s be real, it’s a loaded desire.
Because in order to fulfil it, we have to let ourselves look at our weaknesses, vices, brokenness and sinfulness. It means we must let God enter the ugly, dirty places and help us clean up the mess. It means letting our hearts receive the love and the healing He wants to restore us with.
So, start with the little word at the beginning of the sentence. Don’t scramble to make yourself courageous by this or that method or by trying to be brave by your own strength (because who’s strength is it really, anyway?). Take a moment to open your heart. Breathe in the Holy Spirit and breathe out your lies. Ask God to step into the mess, and then let Him. It is out of our receptivity that courage will come.