Courage used to be a fearless and daily slaying of the dragon. A learned thing, perhaps, but always an attainable one; to step out, sword at the ready, a burning confidence in your heart. Courage used to be a battle cry, a song sung out against a thousand voices, a victory won before it ever began.

Courage isn’t like that anymore. These days, when fear claws its way through your window and you wonder if bravery is nothing but a lie, courage is a prayer whispered in the stillness of night. Sometimes, courage is hot and loud and trembling, an explosion of fireworks in a world gone wrong. But other times, when biting winds threaten to steal your breath, courage is cold and sharp, ringing in your ears while you trudge on and on. It’s not a fearless endeavor, but gripping fear with all your strength and saying, “I am so scared, but I will keep going.” Courage is halting and crying and still persisting, persisting, persisting, because courage has nothing to do with how you feel and everything to do with a God you trust.

One day, courage will be strong and victorious, but today it is a quiet and shaking belief in a victorious God. Today, courage is the painful movement of taking one step in front of the other, and somehow that is enough.

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