Years ago, I found myself in a one-room adobe house in El Derramadero, Mexico. A woman named Eva stood before me, holding her four-year-old son, Fidel. He had a tumor, failing kidneys, bedsores, a too-large head on a frail frame. His eyes barely held life.

She asked us to pray for him.

I wasn’t ready for the pain in that room. I had no theological answers. No words. Just a deep, guttural ache. Thankfully, Rosa, a woman of faith, was with us. She prayed with fire. Eva wept. Fidel stirred, smiled weakly, and said, “Adios.”

Two weeks later, he died.

When I returned, Eva’s grief hung on her like a cloak. What could I possibly say? She had poured her life into this boy. And now, she would never hold him again.

But here’s what I can say now: Fidel changed me. His suffering pulled me out of my spiritual numbness. God used Fidel to break my heart and show me what real compassion looks like. He was a turning point in my journey — an invitation to live differently, with a broken heart that moves toward the hurting.

Read the full story of Fidel here.

Why Risk Matters

Risk doesn’t just teach you something. It makes you someone. It carves identity out of raw experience. It strips away pretense and reveals the core.

Comfort may soothe us, but it will never shape us.

We’ve taught our children to play it safe. Not always with words, but with the choices we model, when we value predictability over calling, security over sacrifice.

It’s understandable. We want to protect them. But somewhere along the way, we began to believe the myth that safety is the highest good. As if avoiding pain is the same thing as living wisely.

But what if the greater danger is staying in what's familiar too long?

The Lie of Safety

Comfort whispers promises it can’t keep. It doesn’t deliver peace, it just deadens our hunger for purpose. And that’s how we lose a generation to apathy.

I’ve met so many young people who are capable, called, and stuck. Not because they lack talent, but because they’re waiting to feel “ready.” But calling rarely feels safe. It comes as a whisper, not a roadmap. And that whisper often leads into the unknown.

Parents, This Is For You

If you're a parent, I know how hard it is to let go. I’ve done it many times. But hear me: sometimes we hold our kids back not because they aren’t ready, but because we’re not.

What if God is calling them into something that feels reckless to you, but deeply obedient to Him?

Your ceiling can’t become their floor. Don’t let your fear become their boundary.

The Invitation

Following Jesus doesn’t come with a blueprint. It comes with a call: Follow Me.

You don’t need a 10-year plan. You need enough trust to take the next step.

So what’s the risk God is asking you, or your child, to take?

• Risk the uncomfortable conversation.

• Risk the mission trip that doesn’t fit the résumé.

• Risk the dream you buried because it scared you.

God doesn’t meet us in the safety of our control. He meets us in the wilderness of our risk. Not always with answers, but with presence. And presence changes everything.