When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time at my Granny and Paw's house. (I've previously written a blog about their impact on my life. Read about it here.)
Paw went to heaven when I was 6 years old, so I have few memories of him, but they are happy ones. He would often take me on walks down the dirt road near their house. It was always an adventure. I can remember him stooping down to teach me what kind of animals had left the tracks in the soft dirt, and the names of trees that grew along our path. And he never tired of my endless questions!
One day, as we were preparing to go on our adventure, he put a jacket on me and said, "If you get too cold, we'll turn around and go home, OK?" It was pretty chilly outside that day, so it's a wonder that Granny let him take me!
As we set out on our journey, we neared an old house that sat on the corner, right beside the dirt road. Every time we went on walks, we had to walk by that house. It was always a spooky looking house to me. But the real problem for me was what was inside the chain link fence. A bulldog. A very vocal bulldog.
That day, just like all the others, he saw us coming and began his territorial display. Paw said, "Now don't be scared of that dog. He's in a fence. He won't hurt you. Paw won't let him get you."
My heart was pounding! I was terrified of that dog! Usually, Paw's gentle reassurance was enough for me to overcome my fear and walk on by. Not that day.
I stopped and pulled Paw's hand. "I'm getting a little bit cold," I said. He smiled, seeing right through my excuse. "Do you want to turn around and go back?" I said, "Yes."
That day, I let that bark rob me of an adventure.
These memories came flooding back to me when I read a quote recently by Kris Vallatton:
"The dogs of doom often stand at the doors of our destiny. They start barking when we are about to cross the threshold of our God-given purpose. Most people never fully enter into their promised land because they allow fear to dictate the boundaries of their future. They reduce their lives to accommodate the dogs of doom, and they mistake the silence for peace."
In this season of my life, the "dogs of doom" have been barking their heads off! I have a choice. I can listen to the barking lies of the Enemy, consider his threats, let fear win, and turn back. Or I can press on, pull in close to my Father, round the corner, and go on the biggest adventure of my life!
I think I'll keep walking.