I used to think I was brave. I can remember standing up to the bullies in my life with defiance on my face and pointed words in my mouth. I certainly have learned to put on a brave face.
But I’m rethinking bravery. The things I used to do – the bold remarks, the decisive moves, the quick choices – was this bravery? Or recklessness? Or some of both? And what did I miss out on while putting on that brave face for the world while secretly wishing someone would take up that fight for me? And what was I fighting anyway?
I’m rethinking bravery.
When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly. “He himself bore our sins” in his body on the cross so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; “by his wounds you have been healed.”
(1 Peter 2:23, 24 NIV)