I’m a major proponent of doing difficult things.

Strangely enough, I enjoy doing things stretch me beyond what I think I can possibly do (at least most of the time), and I think you should be open to doing more difficult things in your own life… and here’s why:

When we do difficult things, we are stretched and grown in ways that comfort and security cannot possibly produce in us.

We’re challenged to open our minds to new possibilities.

We’re forced to think critically and intentionally about our situation.

We’re exposed to our real limitations (not the ones that we often confine ourselves to live within).

We’re reminded of our need for God, for mentors, and for more education and more experiences that can further equip us.

And ultimately, when we’ve endured the pain, struggle and/or strife associated with the difficult thing we’ve chosen to work through (because unless it’s a matter of life and death, there’s almost always a choice involved), we’ll often find that God has been working in us and on us as we’ve done our best to persevere to the end.

That’s right. When we endure, when we persevere, when we don’t give up — but rather choose to lean on God and push through — God has a way of producing fruit in our lives.

Choosing to difficult things also makes us ready, and better prepared, for the difficult instances or circumstances that we don’t choose — but that choose us.

Here’s a great case-in-point…

I attended a chapel service last week that featured a well-known band.

By design, the service was a mix of the band sharing their music and stories from their life.

But the service almost tanked.

During the opening song the lead guitarist’s guitar started to cut in and out — and then mostly out.

It’s was obvious to everyone that it was happening. And the shy guy working the sound console was in full view of the entire room. He was a student worker who had obviously been trained on how to work the gear, but this was the first time I could recall seeing him at a chapel service.

The young man work diligently on the sound console — hoping (I’m sure) to be able to fix the issue from the back of the room — but to no avail.

And it was also obvious to anyone paying attention that the guitarist was growing increasingly frustrated with the situation.

In that moment, it would have been easy for the young guy to have quietly slipped out of the room to avoid the increasing number of glares he was receiving.

No one would have blamed him for calling for backup.

And I think many would have even been understanding had he simply shrugged his shoulders and made a motion as if to say, “I’m not sure what’s going on. Sorry.”

But he didn’t.

Instead, he waited for the next song to finish (and story to begin), and he quietly made his way to the front of the room (with beat red face and sweat visibly streaming down his brow), and began to change out the potentially faulty cord as inconspicuously as possible.

He didn’t know that would fix anything, but he wasn’t about to give up without exhausting his knowledge base.

And wouldn’t you know it… as the story concluded and the next song was about to begin, the guitarist took an apprehensively hopeful strum to hear that everything once again sounded just as it should.

He gave a nod of acknowledgement towards the young guy who had returned to the back of the room — with fading shades of red now leaving his face — and the service continued on without further issue.

This guy chose the difficult thing to do.

Some might suggest that he didn’t have a choice — but he did.

And in choosing to do the difficult thing in that situation, I truly believe that God began to grow some new fruit within him.

So what does this look like in your life?

Do you run towards difficult things? Or do you run from them?

How might you benefit from doing difficult things in your life?