God does not need your help

She needs your courage instead

Of the many predilections that plague me – from a crippling coffee addiction to an obsession with Roger Federer that might land me in an asylum - there is one affliction that's harder to name. It's the cognitive dissonance of believing that divine providence has chosen me for a great mission while simultaneously cushioning my aspirations to avoid disappointment from the universe.

Yes, I believe a divine being brought me into this world with a chosen mandate and equipped me with all the necessary attributes to fulfill it. Like Moses, I have the rod that would part the Red Sea ahead of me, and in any way that I lack, my Aaron had been preordained and prepared under the supervision of the almighty. Yet when I make requests of this being, I hedge. I temper my expectations as if I am unworthy of the dreams that resonate with my highest self. I fear that the moment I dare ask for these things deemed “ridiculous”, the almighty would laugh me away.

I suspect this affliction was born in my childhood. I grew up with just enough money to be poor amongst the rich. I had money sometimes; they had MONEY ALL THE TIME. This precarious relationship with wealth leaves scars on your psyche. You shrink your untamed imagination to match your disappointing reality. You become oddly comfortable in situations that should terrify you. Memories that should have been joyful—birthdays, holidays, milestones—are forever tainted with toil, stress, and the quiet understanding that abundance had abandoned you.

The irony is that I am the ambitious friend in my circle. The bold one. The audacious one. Yet I've barely begun. My dreams have been anchored by the weight of "practical" expectations, and it's time to cut that anchor loose. That's the paradox: I am driven, but I have always asked for too little. I've dreamed responsibly, practically, in ways that fit my small imagination of what is "possible." But I'm starting to understand that practicality is the enemy of the divine. Every time I have asked for something within my grasp, I've excluded the universe from the equation. I've left no room for miracles.

The time for small, practical dreams is over. Now, I must ask for the dream so grand, so impossible, so wild that only divine providence could make it happen. It's terrifying to even speak these dreams aloud, but that's exactly what faith demands.

Here's the truth: God doesn't need my help. She doesn’t need me to hustle harder, hedge my bets, or micromanage her plan as though she’s just another teammate. What she needs is my courage. She needs me to believe in her capacity to deliver and trust that she will. The greatest irony is that every time I've tried to "help" God-like forcing a romantic relationship because waiting for divine timing seemed too passive—it has ended in disaster. I'm like an overeager manager pressuring a creative director to produce concepts on demand, then acting surprised when the work falls short.

God doesn’t need my interference. What she needs is for me to stop shrinking my vision and step into the grand adventure that is my life. For my friends and family who already believe my life has been an adventure, I say this: you haven’t seen anything yet. The liberated version of me, untethered by fear and practicality, is only just beginning to emerge.

Faith isn't about asking for what feels safe or attainable. It's about standing at the edge of the unknown and daring to leap, trusting that the universe has already prepared the net. That's what I owe her—not my hesitation, not my practicality, but my bold, reckless, audacious faith.

So here I am, asking for the implausible. Not because I think I can do it alone, but because I finally understand: that the universe was never asking for my help. She was asking for my trust.

So here’s my challenge to you: Start by writing down the dreams that scare you—not because they’re impossible, but because they’re audacious, bold, and world-shifting. These are the dreams that defy logic and demand faith. The dreams you’d once have deemed unlikely but now know, deep in your bones, are inevitable.

Once you’ve written them down, share them in the comments. Sharing these dreams isn’t just about accountability—it’s about declaring your faith. It’s about saying to the universe, I trust you with this. Let’s make it happen.

Let me go first.

• In the short term, I want to build an idea that gets me my first million dollars.

• I want to get two cars for my family.

• I want to own my first rental property before the end of next year and get my second passport.

Best,

Coffy.

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