Beyond the Yellow Streak

I wasn’t born tough. In fact, if you ask me, I had a pretty wide yellow streak down my back for much of my childhood and fear has been a regular visitor in my life ever since. We could quibble over whether or not being afraid makes you a coward; I know it doesn’t necessarily. Nevertheless, I was afraid of confrontation. I didn’t like fighting and I ran from one in particular when I was about 9 or 10 years old. I remember running from a kid with a knife and thanking God for speed. But the next day the “friends” who saw the whole event called me a coward for running.

I thought those friends were ridiculous but there was a part of me that believed it and knew that there was a hint of truth in their assessment. On other occasions, I was “jacked”, short for hijacked, by two or more guys. It seemed as a kid that every time I was threatened by someone it was more than one or a much older one trying to take something from me. I was deathly afraid in these situations because I immediately ran through the scenarios the fear affords you. “You’ll get beaten up, you’ll get killed, you’ll be embarrassed if you stand up to these people, etc.”

As I got older, the fear had less to do with confrontations with people; martial arts instruction did wonders for my confidence. But the yellow streak was still there when it came to basketball, spiritual life, pursuing further education, contributing professionally on the job. I was gripped by fear and prone to play things as safely as they could be played. It was just like the inner-city all over again , running from knife fights and feeling intimidated and over-matched. The yellow streak shined so brightly in my own eyes that to this day I struggle to think that I’m worth having a conversation with. I have a tendency even now to be long-winded simply because I’m afraid people will walk away from the conversation due to boredom. YELLOW!

I now know that FEARFUL is not a synonym for COWARDLY. But the perpetual fear that controlled my life was an indicator of cowardice. Everything I did was in the interest of security and safety. When I attempted to play professionally the first time, I wasn’t fully vested. I was distracted and didn’t seek proper individualized training. I can admit now how cowardice limited my perspective and dulled what brazen spirit lay dormant. I can also admit that seeing a greater purpose between and beyond the enemy combatants has fueled my fervor for engaging cowardice.

Cowardice looms, beckons and threatens me daily. I’m still the kid running out of a garage full of gang members who were seconds away from making me one of  “them”. But I’ve learned two things. #1 It’s not cowardly to run from a fight not worth fighting and #2 Where there is cowardice, there is also the gracious God-given strength to be fueled by a purpose that trumps misgivings about the future. As I discover what is worth fighting for, the yellow streak becomes narrower and quite dim.