Chapter 5: May You Be Brave, Little One
Tonight I rocked and fed Maggie in her nursery and found myself staring at a picture on the wall. I wondered if she would ever wake up in fear. I imagined myself teaching her how this image reminds her father and me of Aslan—a lion who points us to Christ.
I thought about reading her The Chronicles of Narnia, of filling her heart with hope and adventure. And I prayed that, when she woke in the night, she would feel safe under the watchful gaze of the Lion—that she would remember the God who faithfully watches over her.
As I sat there, a single word came to mind—one that has surfaced again and again in my prayers lately. It came as I’ve read the stories of Joan of Arc, Susanna Wesley, Hannah More, Saint Maria of Paris, and Corrie ten Boom.
That word was courage.
I sat down with a heavy heart and began to write. Most of me doesn’t want her to need courage. In my flesh, I want her life to be marked by perfect peace and comfort, untouched by hardship. But I know, this side of Heaven, that’s not possible.
And I know my greatest desire for her isn’t comfort—it’s intimacy with Christ. And that often comes from walking steadily with Him through both valleys and mountaintops. This world is broken. And she will face difficulty.
So tonight, I prayed this prayer for my sweet daughter:
I pray for courage for you.
I don’t know what lies ahead. I don’t know what seasons you will walk through. But I pray that, when you walk through the valley, you can look upon your Heavenly Father and feel brave—like a little girl waking from a nightmare, only to find herself safe in her Father’s arms.
I pray you know that you are always watched over. That you are never alone.
I just finished Corrie Ten Boom’s story in Eric Metaxas’ book. Reading about Joan of Arc, Susanna Wesley, Hannah More, Saint Maria of Paris, and Corrie Ten Boom has stirred so many prayers in my heart for you.
But tonight, one prayer rose above the rest: courage.
Courage to never lose hope in the face of adversity and those who challenge truth.
Courage to believe in yourself when others don’t.
Courage to forgive those who hurt you and help those who rebuff you.
Courage to speak truth to those in authority and call out the wicked.
Courage to let yourself be vulnerable and weep over brokenness.
Courage to fill in the gap when there is a void.
Courage to create.
Courage to face your own personal weaknesses.
Courage to surround yourself with people who challenge you.
Courage to be at peace in seasons of singleness—and courage to wait.
Courage to use your gifts for God’s service.
Courage to take on big issues because you serve a big God.
Courage to stand up for justice and for the poor, even when it’s not popular.
Courage to see the dignity of others and love them radically.
Courage when you find yourself standing for truth between critics on both sides.
Courage to protect the vulnerable.
Courage to forgive those who persecute you.And as Saint Maria of Paris wrote, courage to face:
“...the demand to strain all [your] forces, not fearing the most difficult endeavor, in ascetic self-restraint, giving [your] soul for others sacrificially and lovingly, to follow in Christ’s footsteps to [your] appointed Golgotha.”
My heart feels heavy. It aches as I watch Maggie strain with the realities of her premature GI system. How can I pray for future suffering when I can hardly bear this?
And yet—I’m overwhelmed with gratitude that I get to teach her about a Savior who watches over her and walks with her through it all. A Savior who has prepared a place where there is no more pain or death.
He is her warrior.
He has defeated death.
I get to tell her stories of Rahab, Joshua, Joseph, Mary, David, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I get to cling to the cross with her. I get to point her to the One who demonstrated the ultimate courage.
I get to teach her that we can be brave because He was brave.
“Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them,
for it is the Lord your God who goes with you.
He will not leave you or forsake you.”
— Deuteronomy 31:6
