How A “Step of Faith” Might Look Different Than You Imagined

We often talk about “taking a step of faith.” The context seems to refer to a moment of strength where, after a long time of processing, praying, and sweating through the options, we muster up the fortitude to confidently step out and trust we won’t slip.

Sure, there is trepidation and fear.

But we usually don’t take the next step if we don’t at least have some idea that our footing will be on solid ground and the distance we strode will move us significantly forward in our journey to becoming more of who (or where) we think we are supposed to be.

I see stories of people in scripture who took figurative steps of faith.

Sometimes it was a move to a new place, standing on conviction, or putting a life on the line, but there are other times I see a step of faith as a literal step.

Some of these steps were out on to water, quite possibly the least secure place of footing possible.

Peter’s step required leaving the solid boat for a raging sea.

The Israelites step required leaving the wandering behind and putting their feet into a flooded, dirty, river and trusting God would part the waters.

We know the end of these stories so I often imagine these steps done with head held high, chest puffed out, and the confidence of one who knows what they’re doing.

Thinking of steps of faith like this is a little misleading.

We think we have to take the step with confidence, because God might be disappointed in us if we have doubt in our step.

After all, we are taught that faith and doubt cannot coexist.

I disagree.

I think faith and doubt are two sides of the very same coin.

Not that wisdom is bad, in fact it is needed in taking steps, but sometimes faith comes in when wisdom has reached it’s limits and one foot needs to be lifted to be placed in front on the other.

Take watching a toddler take his first steps, for example.

This is one of the most fun things you can experience.

Their steps are rarely large and they are never leaps. The hands generally wave wildly while bowed legs and pigeon turned feet try to hold up the massive weight of a body too large for the chubby untrained thighs to carry.

By any reasonable measure of success, the first step is usually a failure.

It doesn’t go very far, it ends in falling on their padded bottom, and many times is followed by tears.

A toddler’s first step is off balance, looks ridiculous, and ends in a flop almost every time.

But, the fun of watching a toddler take his first steps is nothing like the fun of watching his parents watch him take his first step.

There is cheering and laughter, encouragement and joy. And clapping, oh the clapping.

The moment is probably capture on film, and if not, there is disappointment. The tears of the parent are so different than the tears of the child, but the tears are often there.

Calls are made to relatives, posts go on social media, and there is always an attempt to try for a repeat.

There is no punishment for the fall, there is no disappointment in the awkwardness of the posture, there is no hope for leaps or running.

There is only joy in the tiny, little, uncomfortable, weak, trembling, pathetic, dangerous, amazing, life changing, party prompting step. Why? Because it was a step.

In moments of steps of faith, I’d like to imagine God like the parent of this wobbly toddler.

I more often think of God watching with disappointment, ready to correct, and throwing His hands up in the air because despite all His best efforts, I continue to take really poor steps of faith.

I am wobbly, unsure, look incredibly awkward and foolish, and it usually ends in a giant fall with giant size tears.

I’ve walked before, I should know how to do this.

But, somehow I’m learning to walk all over again, and God must be shaking his head in disappointment.

What if instead, God was holding His arms up high?

What if He was celebrating with every sloppy step, cheering me on because even though it was ugly and scary, it was a step? A step that will require many more steps, possibly many more falls and many more tears, but it was a step.

What if he was taking out his smart phone and taking pictures while tears were running down his face?

What if he called over Moses or one of the James’ by yelling, “Come here! Look! My boy is taking a step!” And even if that step didn’t look perfect, he was still beaming with his goofy proud dad grin that’s makes you drop your head and blush a little and saying:

“Don’t worry if you missed it. He’ll take another one soon, I just know it. He’s good at it.”