Friday Freelance: FRIEND Part III

"All's well that ends well.
And if it isn't ending well, it isn't the end."
~Max Lucado, from his book Fearless

Friday Freelance: FRIEND Part III

Those of you who caught Parts I & II know of the recent visit by my friend Gwen Stewart and I to Colorado for the ACFW Writers Conference, and our side trip to the Rocky Mountains—complete with Gwen's abject fear of heights and our drive along terrifying cliffs.

I'd planned to blog only of that escapade and its spiritual lesson, but moments before I posted Part II, I was compelled to add these closing words:

FOOTNOTE: Lest it appear that I paint myself a hero and Gwen a weakling, I shall this Friday tell you of the chasm from which Gwen deftly rescued me.

Here goes.

Gwen calls me intrepid. I had to look up "intrepid," which literally means "not alarmed," and is defined as "characterized by resolute fearlessness, fortitude, and endurance."

I like the word "fearless." Speed and heights thrill me. I fondly recall days spent skydiving, rappeling, and doing technical climbs on sheer faces of granite. Emergencies mean someone needs to take action, and if not me then who? I've dashed into a home engulfed in flames protected by only a wet handkerchief over my nose. The one emergency I faced where I honestly thought I was going to die was one I nonetheless ran toward.

I'm just telling you all this so you'll understand that I don't lightly toss around the word fearless.

Two Thursdays ago, Gwen and I spent the morning in Rocky Mountain National Park. We safely negotiated a switchback which presented potential danger and gave me no pause. A bit later I stood at 12,000 above sea level cliff overlooking a 4,000' high chasm which sent Gwen retreating to our vehicle.

Then Thursday night we were safely back down to only one mile above sea level in Denver. We sat in a banquet room filled with some 600 publishing professionals and aspiring authors. Gwen and I were separated by seating arrangements as we listened to the speakers.

I felt out of place. I'm at ease with people from all walks of life, including those dedicated to writing. Yet I found myself overwhelmingly intimidated by a situation thoroughly beyond my ability. I cannot face the portals of publication and simply fight fearlessly or work hard or stand them down. Those gateways are opened or closed by the hand of God. And He's had me standing upon the same threshold for seventeen months.

Which is entirely His right. He bought me and owns me. I'll go wherever or do whatever He wants. No problem.

I guess. Sort of.

But if I'm honest, I'm horribly afraid of at least one thing.

I'm terrified by the idea of being unfruitful.

While I was avoiding eye-contact with my fear, I listened to ACFW President Cynthia Ruchti speak. Then she said something along the lines of, "This was billed as a fragrance-free conference. But throughout this room is the fragrance of all of you pouring out yourselves in offering for our Lord."

Whatever else causes trepidation in others yet brings intrepid out of me, I was immediately terrified by the vast chasm of wasted effort. Overcome by the need to step away from it's edge, I quietly exited the banquet hall and found an isolated corner in which to recover.

I know well that some areas of my life are quite fruitful. I just hate that any hours should be squandered when life is so short and time is incredibly precious. I fear any of my labor being for naught. I can allow how long the journey takes, as long as I see fruitful progress. Lacking that, I feel utterly impotent and diminished.

I returned to my table, still bewildered that I should be there. At the end of the session, I found precious Gwen at my side, her eyes asking what was wrong. She listened to me rant. She held me in her love with her gaze. The chasm became tolerable with a friend at my side to negotiate it with me.

Throughout the conference, I enjoyed the love and fellowship of many friends with no knowledge of my fear. But another dear friend also understood my trepidation without me speaking of it—my agent Rachelle Gardner. She also came alongside me, sensitive to the needs of her client and genuinely caring about the heart of a friend. The fact that she understood so much that went unsaid is testimony to her own tender and gracious spirit.

Gwen emerged from the mountains with new courage to face the journey before her because a friend eased her through terror. She returned the favor to me at the edge of my own fearful precipice. The Lord sent a second angel of His love to confirm His will that I stay the path.

With such friends, I stand ready for the journey the Lord has ordained. I remember that a true sacrifice means one lavishly pours out all for the Lord without thought of waste.

I resolve to prove intrepid.

A postscript (added 10 hours after original post): My intent was to end this piece with the message of how much every single one of us needs every other one of us. It got lost in all else being said. Those words must not remain unspoken: Every one of you is needed.

Contrasting points-of-view, questions and feedback are invited. Post to BuildingHisBody.com "Comments" or e-mail to BuildingHisBody@gmail.com. Copyright 2009, Anne Lang Bundy, all rights reserved.