Never Give Up
“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.”— Isaiah 40:31 (NIV)
Too often, I'm in a hurry to learn things. I get ahead of myself, and in my rush, I miss important lessons along the way. Then, when things don't come as quickly or easily as I'd hoped, frustration sets in—and too often, I've been tempted to give up.
Over the past several months, I've been on a journey to embrace persistence. I'm learning to walk—not literally, of course, but in my new career as a writer.
And that got me thinking about how we first learn to walk.
How do infants become toddlers? Do they think about all the challenges and hard work ahead? Do they worry that falling might hurt? Of course not.
When I think about what toddlers do as they learn to walk, the lesson seems so clear. A child isn't focused on how difficult each individual step is. They're focused on the goal. They want to walk like everyone else around them.
So they try.
And they fall.
Sometimes they stop for a moment, frustrated. They may cry and need consolation or encouragement. But a few minutes later, they're at it again—pulling themselves up and taking another step.
What they don't realize is that even their falls aren't wasted.
Each time they pull themselves up, their tiny legs grow stronger. Their balance improves. Their muscles develop. Falling isn't a detour from learning to walk. It's part of the process.
And once they learn to walk—watch out.
Running comes next, and they do it with abandon, laughing and teetering through the house. When they fall, they get back up. Each step and each fall makes them stronger.
But they're not finished yet. Next comes climbing. Suddenly, every piece of furniture is a mountain waiting to be conquered. Up they go, sometimes followed by another tumble.
Fall. Rise. Try again.
And somewhere along the way, something changes. They don't have to concentrate so hard on their balance anymore. They fall less often. Their confidence grows almost as quickly as their little bodies do.
I've given myself a nickname to remind me of this lesson as I reach for my own goals.
I am Persistent.
Every morning, I look into the mirror, and I say those three words. I am persistent.
At first, I didn't always feel particularly persistent. There were days when the words seemed more like something I hoped to become than something I actually was.
But I kept saying them.
More importantly, I kept practicing them.
Day after day, I continued—even when I was frustrated, discouraged, or unsure of myself. And somewhere along the way, something began to change.
Persistence became easier.
I'm more persistent today than I was when I started.
I'm also learning not to let the falls along the way stop me from reaching my goals. I press on. I dust off my backside, get back up, and keep going.
Because every fall can teach me something—about the process and about myself.
I don't want to waste those lessons.
The funny thing is, as I've gone through this process, I've discovered that one of the biggest obstacles in my path is often me.
I can sabotage myself.
So now I journal every day, and I ask myself the hard questions.
What am I afraid of?
What doubts are holding me back?
What am I worried about?
Then I spend a few quiet moments thinking about my answers and what might really be keeping me from taking that next step. I also pray and seek God's wisdom.
Too often, the answer is me.
I've dreamed of being an author most of my life. So many notebooks filled with new worlds, strong characters, and a story that means more than just entertainment. I'm not seeking fame or fortune. I just want to connect and to finish a work that has come to mean a great deal to me personally.
Perhaps that's why I'm finally learning the value of persistence. The dream isn't enough. I have to keep taking the next step—even when I'm unsure of myself, even when I stumble, and even when the path ahead seems harder than I expected.
Recognizing what holds me back has become another part of learning to walk.
I don't have to know how to run yet. I don't have to know how to climb the mountain that's still somewhere ahead of me.
I only need to take the next step.
And when I fall—and I will—I need to remember that the fall isn't wasted. I can learn from it. I can get stronger because of it. And then I can get back up.
Maybe that's part of what it means to “walk and not be faint.”
We keep walking.
We keep learning.
We keep getting stronger.
And, most importantly, we never give up.
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