at what point does one cross the line from playing it safe to walking off the field?  at what point does being careful transform into sitting in the stands?  at what point does being responsible equate a crutch? where did we, as a people, learn this fear of doing the wrong thing?  where did I learn this fear? since when did i trade living life, for sitting in the bleachers?

Erwin McManus said…

for too may of us, because we fear failure, we are afraid to try.  sometimes we live vicariously through the lives of others.  instead of being life voyagers, we become life voyeurs.  i think it’s one of the reasons we entertain ourselves to death.  we find our romance in You’ve Got Mail and we fight our battles through William Wallace and Maximus Aurelius.  And there might as well be a glass screen between real life and us because the closest we get to fulfilling our life’s dream is watching them.  we’ve accepted our place, our lot in life, as sideliners.

i’ve spent the better part of the past few weeks pouring over internet adds for apartments.  ive visited some, called others… and always, always… im finding something wrong with them.  and im coming to the conclusion that the apartment isnt necessarily wrong.   i am.

i’m blessed enough to be able to afford a nice place.  so thats not the issue.  the issue is me.  its that im afraid of failing.  of not finding the ‘right’ apartment.  its wanting the path before me to be highlighted and marked prior to stepping out the door.  its my refusal to live in the joy of the moment and in the walk of faith.

its crippling.  and it needs to stop.

part of it is my fear of how things went last time.  and that if i somehow screw up now, the past will simply repeat.


i know i cannot continue to live this way.

people still talk about the lives of those they emulate.  william wallace, maximus aurelius, the spartans… all evoke emotion, passion and visions of glory in those who know their stories.  people tell and retell their stories because of exactly that truth.  they lived lives full of stories worth telling.   they did not live safe lives.  these were not safe men.  they lived, fought, loved, gave, won and lost with all they had.

i dont like life as a sideliner.  i dont.  because here, on the sidelines, i’m useless.  yes, my clothes are clean, i smell good and i’m healthy.  out there on the field, i’ll get dirty.  on the field, there will be days where i’ll not smell nice.   and i promise you, i will get hurt.  but at this point, the call is too loud.  i crave the adventure.  so i’ll take the scraped knees, the cuts and the grass stains and the sprains and twists and possible breaks.  i’ll take the bruised ego and the very real possibility of falling flat of my face.  i’ll take those risks because standing here on the sidelines means never living the life i want.  loving the way i want. painting the pictures i want to see.  hearing the music i want to hear.

i’ll take those risks because standing here on the sidelines, living life vicariously through others, drowing the love that burns inside of me, and swallowing the dreams that keep my heart alive will eventually destroy me.  i’ll be a nice looking, good smelling, healthy shell of a human being.  i’ll be dead on the inside.

and i refuse to live that life.

there is a woman out there.  a woman who i am destined to love.  and i will not be a safe man.  when i find her, i will love her with a love that has been tried through the fire, a love that was won with scars and pain and stories worth telling.  i will love her with all i am and each end every day, when i close my eyes, i will know i loved with everything i had.  because i will not live a quiet safe existence.

i will live a life full of stories that are worthy of being told.