Tonight before dinner, Lydia said our blessing and it went like this, “God, please protect our food. We love you. Amen.” As soon as she finished, Matt said, “Do you think we pray about protection too much?” Ouch. I’m seeing my struggle with fear creep into my daughter, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.
It reminded me of a blog Jen Hatmaker wrote a little while back, Brave Moms Raise Brave Kids. I doubt the word “brave” has ever been used to describe me, but I’m on a mission to change that. These words from Jen’s blog have stuck with me…
I don’t want to be the reason my kids choose safety over courage. I hope I never hear them say, “Mom will freak out,” or “My parents will never agree to this.” May my fear not bind their purpose here. Scared moms raise scared kids. Brave moms raise brave kids. Real disciples raise real disciples.
One summer Aaron went to a youth camp. He was just a little guy, and I was kind of glad because it was a church camp. I figured he wasn’t going to hear all those ghost stories, because ghost stories can really cause a kid to have nightmares. But unfortunately, since it was a Christian camp and they didn’t tell ghost stories, because we don’t believe in ghosts, they told demon and Satan stories instead. And so when Aaron got home, he was terrified.
“Dad, don’t turn off the light!” he said before going to bed. “No, Daddy, could you stay here with me? Daddy, I’m afraid. They told all these stories about demons.”
And I wanted to say, “They’re not real.”
He goes, “Daddy, Daddy, would you pray for me that I would be safe?”
I could feel it. I could feel warm-blanket Christianity beginning to wrap around him, a life of safety, safety, safety.
I said, “Aaron, I will not pray for you to be safe. I will pray that God will make you dangerous, so dangerous that demons will flee when you enter the room.”
And he goes, “All right. But pray I would be really, really dangerous, Daddy.”
So, tonight as I laid Charlotte down in her crib and tucked Lydia under her covers, I changed my prayer. Instead of asking God to protect them, I prayed He would make them dangerous girls, brave girls. Girls who make the enemy tremble. This mom isn’t naturally very brave, but I’ve let fear control me for far too long. It’s time to get a little dangerous.