Leaving comfort

September 11, 2012 — Leave a comment

Vintage chairs B/WMy default is comfort. I want a soft seat. I want a cold drink. I want good food, and plenty of it. I want a steady paycheck, and plenty of it. I want great sex, and plenty of … you get the point. I want my car to start every time. I want a promotion. I want my wife and kids to love me. I want a giant TV. I want every sport live, right now, on said TV – and in HD.

Every commercial you and I hear is an appeal to comfort. It’s something that promises to make life easier or better. But is it possible that all this comfort is actually making our lives more miserable?

When have you felt most alive? Be honest. Was it when you melted into your Lay-Z-Boy, covered in a thin layer of cheese puff residue after another 4 hour session in front of your TV? Probably not.

For me, it was when I struggled through something. Sometimes something painful, sometimes something terrifying, but always something that didn’t come easy. It wasn’t comfortable. It was class 5 rapids that nearly killed me, it was winning a championship after a grueling season of ups and downs, it was getting down on one knee and asking her the question to end all questions, it was the first day of STORYCHURCH.

Many of us are stuck in a story of comfort. We’re somewhere in the middle of chapter three. And right about now we’re dozing off. Forget living a page-turner, we can’t even distinguish this page from the last one.

What’s it going to take to move the story forward? It’s simple really. It’s eliminating comfort. Or for that matter, embracing discomfort. Embracing risk. Risking the vulnerability that comes from asking the girl out. It’s risking the security of a paycheck by asking to rework your hours or job description. It’s the risk of what others might think when they find out you are going to marriage counseling. It’s risking the painful conversation that it will take to have a reconciled relationship.

Embracing the story you were meant to live means resetting your default. From a place of comfort to a place of courage.

I promise you that every person you look up to did something that was risky. They went through pain. They went through a struggle. They led the way when everyone else said it couldn’t be done. They forged a path. They paid the price.

They embraced a story worth telling. I hope you will too.

 

 

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Jeremy Copeland

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