Want to really walk in the fullness of the calling of your destiny? Want to go places beyond anything you could dream of and achieve things that are greater than you could imagine? Want to live a life that leaves a legacy worth talking about which impacts not only your children but also the generations that follow? Want to be legendary?
If so, there is an absolute need to go places that you can’t control and trust in ways that are entirely uncomfortable. The kind of legendary legacy I am talking about is Supernatural and, as such, dependent on God’s designs and favor being given room to manifest within your circumstances. He’s willing, are you? It’s His desire, but it’s our option.
Most of us will opt for the middle ground. We’ll try to be good and contribute to not only our family, but also our church and community, but we’re not OK with the idea of the tightrope without the safety of a net. Good enough is usually good enough. It’s not legendary, though, and it’s full of the regrets inherent within compromise.
Francis Chan has a video on YouTube called “I Dare You to Pray This.” He references Proverbs 30: 7-9; “Keep falsehood and lies far from me; give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’ Or I may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God.”
He makes the point, accurately I believe, that most of us are afraid to pray that way. To really invite God to give us just enough for today. To take us to the edge of faith totally dependent on His provision and to do it again tomorrow as well as the next day. Most of us want to get through “this season” to realize “our inheritance.”
Nothing wrong with inheritance and nothing wrong with new seasons. At the same time, the truth is that I’m afraid of this prayer. I’ve tried it and said it cautiously and with a heart that I know to have reservations. I know the goodness and faithfulness of God exceeds the temporal comforts of my efforts towards provision, but “only my daily bread?” Really?
I know that for my heart to go there, my words need to go there even if they are without the weight of conviction. The words make a way by coming into agreement. They make a way for my heart to mean it when my head knows that God’s promises exceed the limits of my efforts. My “yes,” even when it is hesitant, invites His fullness.