I don't know what to write today. Hero? Well, I am not a hero. I can think of my heroes: William Wilberforce, Ann Voskamp, Mike Donehey, Abraham Lincoln, Ruth, Rahab, perhaps few more.
They were and are all brave. I am not.
But maybe that is just what I see. Maybe, just maybe, they were as afraid as I am at some point.
Maybe being a hero isn't about fame.
Maybe it is about small brave. A small brave that grows and grows.
And maybe it is about the Hero who gave the biggest brave of all: Himself.
Maybe that is where we start, the unlikely heroes in a story that has many parts, but has only just begun. What do we have but ourselves to give? He gave us those, these bodies, these souls, and if that isn't a start, then I don't know beginnings. Which is possible--I was never good at beginnings.
The goal shouldn't be to be a hero.
The goal should be Him.