I was an athlete growing up, extremely competitive both then and now, and never gave up during any sort of competitive setting no matter how dire the situation was. For whatever reason, this attitude stayed on the field and was entirely vacant for most of my life outside of sports. On the field, I was confident and dedicated. Off the field, I was fatalistic and lazy. Through much reflection over the years I’ve come to pin point a few reasons as to why this was the case, and subsequently why this fatalism has gradually ceased to be a problem.
My life was a bit chaotic growing up with innumerable variables, like everyone’s life, and when I got on the field I knew that whatever sport I was playing was far more in my control than not, and it was a liberating feeling. Practice lead to ability, and ability lead to a sense of control over an aspect of my life.
Life outside of athletics was not terrible either. I was reasonably charismatic, intelligent, mildly humorous, decent looking, having all the advantages a straight white male could ask for. Home life wasn’t perfect, but I had loving, concerned parents and fantastic brothers. I had every single opportunity at my fingertips just waiting for me to step into the ocean of possibilities. Despite all of this, I was petrified by the possibility of failing. I always had a dreadful feeling that either 1) I had somehow faked everyone into thinking this way, or 2) if I tried and failed, I would immediately be abandoned as a mistake.
Fast forward seven years and I’m now in my last year or so of college with the last two semesters being the best in my entire academic career. In addition to that, I had also had several jobs over the past two years with some being ones I was not qualified for but attempted to pursue anyways. I found myself taking more chances, stepping further into the unknown circumstances of life, and genuinely enjoying my life more than ever before. The fatalist mentality did not magically melt away, but I realized that I didn’t want to be in control. In the last two years, I have been provided with transportation, jobs, tuition money, friends, and support. All of this came after being stripped of said things previously. Opportunities came, and instead of shying away, I learned to trust God slowly, and he never made a fool out of me for doing so.
As it stands now, I’m still learning to take chances on things I don’t have control over. I no longer put my identity in the success or failures, but remember to rest continually in the God who gave his life for me. There’s a freedom in knowing that whether something will be a success or failure is irrelevant because God is continually working it out for the better for those who love him. The beauty is not that I know the outcome to any situation, but that I’ve come to know Jesus better and subsequently have developed both a more serious trust and a genuine identity. Whether I succeed or fail I know that God is both sovereign and loving, and that he’s a pretty solid father.
I can’t say there’s a surefire way to leaving fatalism behind. But I do have a metaphor that was helped me with it. When I was a kid I used to let the ocean waves at the beach pummel me. I was twelve years old, the waves were massive, and I had been scared of the ocean because I wiped out hard years before that. After a couple days of continuously taking the beating of my life, I realized I was just fine and actually enjoyed being in the water. Consequently, my friends and I had a blast at the beach for the next several years and never worried about the waves after that. I think, in some way, trusting God through uncertainty is a very similar ordeal. Everything will seem terrible and terrifying until you learn to enjoy the ride, trusting God and giving things a shot. All I know is that, in hindsight, fatalism appears silly in the face of a God who cannot be contained.
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