When Expansion No Longer Feels Like Risk

 

The Return of Desire Without Fear

A Contemplation on Isaiah 54:2–4 and John 15

There is a moment in healing when life begins to press outward again.

Not urgently.
Not dramatically.
Almost tentatively.

After long-term grief, expansion does not arrive as hope.
It arrives as caution.

The soul pauses, remembering.

What it remembers is not abstract.

It remembers what happened the last time it grew wide.
It remembers loss following love.
It remembers exposure followed by collapse.

So when desire returns, quietly and without permission, the instinct is to restrain it.

This is not distrust of God.
It is memory held in the body.

Henri Nouwen wrote,

“The greatest enemy of hope is not despair, but fear.”

Fear does not always announce itself loudly.
Sometimes it disguises itself as wisdom.
Sometimes it calls itself caution.
Sometimes it calls itself faithfulness.

Scripture does not dismiss this hesitation.
It speaks to it with patience.

“Enlarge the place of your tent,
stretch your tent curtains wide,
do not hold back.”
(Isaiah 54:2)

This command is not given to the unscarred.
It is spoken to those who know what it costs to expand.

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Why Expansion Feels Unsafe After Grief

Grief teaches the nervous system a brutal lesson.

What grows can be taken.

As a result, many learn to live faithfully but narrowly.
They love God.
They endure.
They remain obedient.

But desire is kept small.
Hope feels irresponsible.

Expansion feels unsafe not because it is wrong,
but because it once preceded loss.

Until safety is restored with God, growth feels like exposure.

Yet Scripture does not frame life as something to be carefully managed.
It frames life as something to be received.

Jesus speaks not of striving, but of abiding.

“Abide in Me, and I in you.”
(John 15:4)

Abiding is not effort.
It is staying where nourishment flows.

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When Desire No Longer Feels Like a Setup

In grief, desire feels like bait.
In rest, desire feels like participation.

The shift is subtle but decisive.

You stop asking,
What will this cost me?

And begin asking,
What is being offered?

Expansion no longer feels dangerous when it is no longer an attempt to secure life,
but a response to life already given.

Scripture names this transition clearly.

“You will forget the shame of your youth.”
(Isaiah 54:4)

What once felt risky begins to feel possible.
Not because loss is forgotten,
but because fear no longer governs.

Expansion without fear is not naivete.
It is healed trust.

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Theological Integration

Grief constricted life in order to preserve it.
Rest restored safety.
Safety allowed life to widen.

Life does not expand through force.
It expands when vigilance is no longer required.

The tent enlarges quietly.
Not through courage.
Through trust.

Expansion is not betrayal of grief.
It is the fruit of having survived it.

And when life begins to widen again,
the next work is not striving to sustain it,
but learning how to receive what is now being given.