On Courage

There is this man I see some mornings on my way to work. Sometimes he is crossing the square next to St. Paul’s. Today he was walking up Ludgate Hill.

It’s hard not to notice him. He is hunched over. His back and his legs are crooked and every step is a deliberate act. His arms swing like a runner’s in the middle of a sprint. Walking to work seems like it might be the toughest thing he does all day.

And what struck me today as I saw him struggle up the street is that he chooses to do it. Every day. He chooses the harder way. And it is courageous. The simple act of walking.

It is easy to believe that to be brave we have to do big things. But I sometimes imagine that it is actually in our smallest, everyday acts that we choose courageous lives.

I have been struggling lately with how to really love. With what it means to be a light in the darkness. And I think that too comes in the small, everyday acts.

I mostly feel like a failure. My heart and my mind, like that man’s body, can be pretty crooked.

The thing is: I am going to screw up. I’m going to get it wrong. I’m going to fail. I’m going to fall flat on my face. And I think that might actually be right where I’m supposed to be. Because that is where grace – which, let’s be honest, is the only way I’m ever going to be able to truly love – is able to start its work.

So I pray for the courage to keep choosing the harder way, even knowing I will fail. Because I also know that it will also be the better way.