Give Me Danger

Vincent Van Gogh once wrote:

“Fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm fearsome, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore. They leave that wisdom to those to whom it appeals. When the storm comes, when night falls, what’s worse: the danger or the fear of danger? Give me reality, the danger itself.”

Scripture is full of people who stepped into danger because obedience mattered more than safety. They weren’t fearless. In fact, many of them had to be told repeatedly, “Do not fear.” They chose not to let fear be a sufficient reason to remain ashore. Some even spent seasons running because of it.

The question has never truly been, “Will this hurt?”

The question is, “Am I called to go?”

Every reality has a fear attached to it.

Being misunderstood.

Being forgotten.

Being disappointed.

Discovering that your hopes were misplaced.

And if you know the Gospel, even losing your life.

These are real possibilities.

Yet fear is often the anticipation of suffering, not the suffering itself.

As Van Gogh points out, fishermen know the sea can hurt them. They know storms are real. Yet they do not build their lives around avoiding storms. They accept danger as the price of living the life they have been called to.

I think most of us are willing to endure pain itself.

We pursue careers knowing we may never reach the pinnacle.

We love despite knowing people can leave.

We invest in dreams that could ultimately crush us.

For me, the storm itself rarely stops me. What troubles me is the uncertainty that precedes it.

The horizon.

Not loss, but waiting to discover whether loss is inevitable.

Not heartbreak, but living in the space where I do not know the outcome.

Not rejection, but wondering if rejection is coming.

I’ve had conversations with people close to me, asking whether I’m doing the right thing. I’ve admitted that if God told me, “This will hurt, but it is the right path,” I would walk it without hesitation.

What torments me is not the pain.

It’s not knowing whether I’m walking toward life or a dead end.

But that’s a cheap way out.

Faith never worked that way. The fisherman doesn’t get a guarantee of calm seas. Abraham doesn’t get a map. Joshua doesn’t get battle plans for every city. The disciples don’t get a promise that following Christ will end comfortably.

They get enough light for the next step.

Obedience is easy when certainty is guaranteed. The real test is obedience when the Lord says “go” but does not offer what waits on the other side.

We must stop trying to negotiate with possibilities and meet reality when it arrives.

The fisherman cannot fight tomorrow’s storm today.

He can only sail.

The danger may come. It may not.

Fear asks us to suffer both the present and the future simultaneously.

Reality only asks us to carry today’s burden.

Van Gogh is not glorifying recklessness. The fisherman knows the sea is dangerous. He is not naïve.

Likewise, I know dreams can crush me.

Baseball can end.

People can leave.

Prayers can seem unanswered.

What I think Van Gogh is rejecting is this kind of masquerading wisdom:

Since pain is possible, don’t love.

Since failure is possible, don’t try.

Since loss is possible, don’t hope.

Since storms exist, stay on the shore.

Don’t surrender to the fear of realities that haven’t arrived.

Give me reality.

The danger itself.

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Additionally reading:

• Matthew 6:34

• Joshua 1:9

• Psalm 119:105

• Proverbs 3:5–6

• Hebrews 11:8

• 2 Corinthians 5:7

• Isaiah 41:10