Safe Enough to Risk Everything
There's a version of your life that's fine. Predictable. A little gray around the edges. And then there's the other version — full of color, full of risk, full of the kind of moments you'll still be talking about decades from now.
Guest speaker Josh Cooke from Freedom Church in Cape Town, South Africa, stood before Courageous Church this past Sunday and made a confession most preachers wouldn't: he's not naturally an adventurous person. He doesn't want to jump out of planes. He'd rather sit in a coffee shop than run into the ocean. And yet somehow, following a series of quiet nudges from God, he's lived a life that took him from Wales to Uganda, Southeast Asia, South Africa — and eventually to a marriage that started with one act of teenage courage at a school Christmas assembly.
His message was simple, but it landed hard: the adventurous life isn't a personality type. It's a response to trust.
You're Not Too Far Gone
One of the most powerful moments in the message came from an unlikely place — a stolen bicycle. Twice, a teenage Josh borrowed his dad's expensive road bike. Twice, he locked it wrong. Twice, he came out to find nothing but a wheel. And twice, his dad looked at him and said the same thing: "Hey ho. Worst things happen at sea."
It's funny. But it's also quietly devastating in the best way — because many of us have never experienced that kind of grace. We've spent years bracing for the moment God finally loses patience with us. And what Josh was saying, without spelling it out, is that you've been reading the relationship wrong. You're not on thin ice. You're already forgiven.
The Promise Isn't What You Think
Drawing from Hebrews 11 and the story of Sarah — a woman who believed God for something that looked biologically impossible — Josh reframed what it actually means to trust God. The promise isn't a guaranteed outcome. It's not a formula that produces the life you planned. The promise, he said, is his presence.
That reframe matters. Because if the promise is presence, then the risk calculation changes completely. You're not betting on a result. You're stepping toward someone who has already committed to walk with you — through the good steps and the costly ones.
Just the Next Step
Josh closed by being refreshingly practical. He wasn't asking anyone to sell their house or quit their job. He listed out the kinds of next steps that actually matter: forgiving someone who betrayed you, applying for the job you've been avoiding, showing up to a community group even though church has hurt you before, starting to tithe, signing up for the mission trip, being generous with someone who's struggling.
Small steps. Real steps. Steps that, one at a time, build something that looks a lot like an adventurous life.
If you're new to Charleston, still figuring out where you belong, or somewhere between faith and doubt — this message was made for exactly where you are. You don't need to have it all figured out. You just need the next step.