Get Up and Walk: When God Calls You to Leave Comfort Behind

Sometimes, God gives you a glimpse—just enough to see the promise ahead. It’s not the whole picture, just a preview, a stirring in your spirit that says, there’s more. And with it comes the invitation:

Will you trust Me enough to move?

Lately, I’ve felt that stirring. Like I’m standing at the edge of something new. I don’t have all the details, but I feel like one of the spies Joshua sent into the Promised Land—seeing what’s ahead, catching a glimpse of God’s faithfulness. But also feeling the fear.

Because that land—full of promise—is also full of giants.

Fear at the Edge of Breakthrough

The Israelites were there too. After years in the wilderness, they stood at the threshold of the land God had promised. Joshua sent spies to scout it out. The land was good—just as God had said—but fear crept in.

The people are too big. The cities are too strong. We can’t do it.

It’s wild, isn’t it? After all God had done—parting seas, raining manna, guiding them with fire—they still hesitated. But I get it. Even now, when I sense God calling me forward, I hesitate too.

Not because I don’t want it. But because I’ve grown used to my dysfunction.

“Do You Want to Get Well?”

That question still pierces me.

Jesus meets a man who had been lying by the pool for 38 years, waiting for healing. And He asks:

“Do you want to get well?” (John 5:6)

Not “Do you believe I can heal you?” or “Why are you still here?” But “Do you want to get well?”

Because sometimes, getting well means leaving behind what’s familiar. It means stepping out of survival mode and into a life you’ve never known. It means trusting God with the unknown—and that’s terrifying when you’ve built your identity around coping, hiding, or hustling to prove your worth.

For me, trusting God in this season means getting up. Taking up my mat. Letting go of my own expectations and fears and choosing to move forward, even when I don’t know what’s ahead.

Just Like an Athlete

It reminds me of that feeling as an athlete—when you’ve been on the sidelines for what feels like forever. Maybe it was due to injury. Or maybe you’ve spent countless hours training, pushing your body, staying late after practice, doing the extra reps, hoping one day the coach will notice.

You’ve done the warmups. You’ve answered every call to get ready. But game after game, you’re still waiting. Still hoping. Still standing just outside the action, longing to step onto the field.

And then—today is the day.

The coach calls your name. You jog over and stand shoulder to shoulder with him. He gives you instructions in a quiet but confident voice. You nod, listening closely, heart racing, doing everything you can to show you’re ready.

And then he says it: Go.

You head to the halfway line, muscles buzzing, mind spinning. You repeat every word he said in your head. You try to stay loose, stretching, breathing, steadying your nerves. The moment feels like an eternity.

And then—the whistle blows.

You’re in.

That’s where I feel like I am now. Standing at the halfway line of life. The call has come. God has said, “Get ready. You’re going in.”

Now, I’m just waiting for the whistle.

What Do I Know Is True?

When fear creeps in, I have to anchor myself in what I know is true about those who trust in the Lord:

• They are never forsaken. (Deuteronomy 31:8)

• They walk in peace, even when the path is uncertain. (Isaiah 26:3)

• They receive strength for each day, not the whole journey at once. (Lamentations 3:22-23)

• They are transformed—from the inside out. (Romans 12:2)

• They bear fruit in every season, even the dry ones. (Jeremiah 17:7-8)

Trust doesn’t mean I have confidence in my ability. It means I choose to move forward, even when I feel weak—because I trust His.

It’s Not Just About Me

Here’s what’s really been hitting me: my trust—or lack of it—doesn’t just affect me.

When I shrink back in fear, I rob others of the courage they might gain from my obedience. When I doubt God’s promises, I model a hesitant, small version of faith.

But when I step out—when I trust Him, even trembling—I show others that He is trustworthy. That He’s worth following.

The Israelites weren’t meant to enter the Promised Land alone. Neither am I. Neither are you.

The Call to Move

So here I am—still in process, still in the tension between the wilderness and the promise. But I hear the call:

Get up. Take your mat. Walk.

I don’t want to be someone who glimpses the goodness of God and still chooses to stay stuck in fear. I want to be someone who trusts Him, even when it costs me my comfort.

Because trust is the doorway to the life He’s prepared. And I don’t want to miss it.

What About You?

Where is God calling you to trust Him in this season? Are you standing at the halfway line, wondering if you’re ready? Have you grown comfortable in dysfunction, or are you preparing for the moment He calls your name?

Drop a comment below or share your thoughts—let’s walk this out together.