Risk

            When I hear the word, “Risk,” I instantly think of the board game of military conquest, deceit, and strategy.  For some reason, I really enjoy playing this game with friends.  Thankfully, they remain friends when the game is over, despite the backstabbing involved.

            Otherwise, I hate the concept.  Risk is something that I generally avoid, because I like stability and planning.  I was raised in a household that had very little spontaneity when we went on vacation, or really any other time.  The basic framework of everything was well-ordered and well-regulated, which allowed for certain defined liberties in the context of order.  So whatever risks I could take, were limited to ones that had no consequences.  This allowed a really safe environment to grow up in.          

            Still, my aversion to risk is not only a result of my upbringing.  I really don’t like it myself.  I was allowed liberties, but the ones I was given, I barely ventured.  I could have gone on high-adventure scout camping trips, but I chose not to.  When my parents lifted my bedtime and left it to my discretion in Jr. High, I was frightened of such authority in my own hands.  When faced with the possibility of doing something normal or something risky, I so often default to the normal, the standard, the expected, that I must scour my memory for any such occasion when I even remember stoutly refusing to take a risk.  Avoiding it is so natural to me that it doesn’t even leave a blip on the radar. 

            Today, I have been asked to recall a time when I took a risk, another when I avoided one, and the benefits of risk-taking, complete with consequences for each.  To begin, perhaps among the most risky things I have ever done was on Monday, when I went to Ames to witness.  I have had such apparent leadings before, but have always been to terrified to act on them.  I discovered that it is really a lot easier to talk about Jesus than it is to start a conversation.  I talked to two guys, one at a bus stop, and the other in a food court, and both conversations went rather well.  But randomly driving to Ames on my day off to talk to people I don’t know is a rather risky business for me.  All in all, I think it was good, because it was obedience to the Lord.

            On Monday, though, I did avoid possible opportunities.  I could have talked to a store clerk at Casey’s in West Ames (or was it Kum&Go?), or a guy smoking outside a dorm room.  Since I didn’t talk to those people, I spent the time that I otherwise would have talking to them driving or wandering around, looking for other opportunities.  But I found none, so I had to wait until the next one came.  Even though I was in Ames for the purpose of witnessing, I turned down chances to do so.  This was bad as I disobeyed the leading of the Lord.

            Risk-taking in and of itself is of no better value than normalcy.  If a risk is taken out of loving obedience to the Lord, in His will and plan, it is good. But so is normalcy in the same context.  The advantage risk-taking has is that it demands trusting God in the unknown.  This is one thing that normalcy cannot do: bring out trust in God for unknown situations.  Just like some things cannot be developed except through adversity, some things, like obedience and trust, are best and sometimes only developed through risk.  To fear and avoid godly risk is disobedient.  To pursue risk for its own sake is foolhardy.  To seek God and obey Him, whatever the case may be, is what His love incites in us.