until today

Today, I noticed.

I have been driving since January. I like to say I try to make driving as least painful as possible. So, in attempts to do so, I take back roads home and drive past my road–that way I can take two right turns into my neighborhood, instead of two lefts. Always seemed like a pretty tactical decision to me. (Plus, I’ve done all the math to prove it to myself, too)

But ultimately, I take this same road everyday. And one day, I realized this random cemetery that’s placed in the middle of this back road I turn onto.

(This backroad–may I add–in Timbuktu.)

Naturally, I’ve always been a bit freaked out by it. I mean, why this random cemetery? And why right here? A minute away from my neighborhood?

Out of fear, I refused to check it out.

I actually would speed up a little bit as I drove past it.

Until today.

Today on my drive home, I slowed down.

And I noticed.

I noticed the blooming trees that surrounded that sign.

I noticed the path that they all seemed to follow down.

I noticed the structure that path then led to.

I noticed the beauty that somehow managed to exist in this thing I've always thought to fear.

So, I pulled over.

And, against my better judgment, I walked in.

And it was beautiful.

It wasn’t dangerous, evil, or cursed, as I had always believed it was.

It was heavenly.

And in a way, healing.

Because now, my stomach will no longer drop every time I drive that road.

And now, this pit will no longer sit in my stomach at the thought of the “unknown.”

Because I noticed.

And I now know.

I was wrong.

My fear made me blind to the truth of what is, and always has been, good.

And it just took me noticing that single tree, to realize that sometimes our biggest fears are really our biggest blessings in disguise.

A few months ago, I was (yet again) reading the book if, by Mark Batterson. And on this specific day, I came across the chapter “Cross Eyed,” which focuses on Romans 8:12. Towards the end of the chapter, Batterson touches on his experience as a pastor in Washington DC. This specific instance occurred after a meeting he had with a DC council member who ran for mayor in the last election cycle. He says that at the end of their time together, he asked the council member what he could pray for. To Batterson’s surprise, the man replied: “Pray that I don’t let fear dictate my decisions.”

He didn’t ask for a prayer to win the election for mayor; he asked for a prayer to win the election of his mind.

It’s been months since the day I read that chapter.

But, there’s yet to be a day that’s gone by without me thinking about it.

Until today, fear was dictating my decision to stay far from that cemetery.

Fear of what I did not know to be true.

I thought that very fear was protecting me.

But it turns out, that fear was only keeping me from something beautiful, and so right.

I now more than ever see what a faulty dictator fear is.

And I now more than ever see how badly I need to give God veto power.

Faith needs to be the dictator of my decisions, not fear.

So, here lies the question:

What dictates your decisions?

How long will you let it?