Napoleon, the Grand Emperor of the French Republic, was at a parade of troops outside of Paris. His Marshalls, his staff, and his officers were all present.

As Napoleon was reviewing the troops, a small animal ran from a bush, startling his horse. The horse bucked. Reared up. And Napoleon fell backward in his saddle, clinging precariously to the reins.

No one moved. Except for a young private who broke ranks and sprinted from the lines. His rifle clattered to the ground. His hat flew off. The private grabbed the reins of the Emperor’s horse, unceremoniously shoved Napoleon back into the saddle, and snapped to attention.

Napoleon looked around. At his Marshalls. His staff. His officers. And then down at the young private.

In a booming voice, Napoleon said, “Thank you… Captain.”

The young man—obviously flustered—responded, “Of what regiment, Sir?”

Napoleon responded: “Of my personal, Imperial Guard.”

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Larry Osborne once wrote, “The most striking thing about highly effective leaders is how little they have in common. What one swears by, another warns against. But one trait stands out: the willingness to take risks.”

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‍That all sounds fine, but is risk-taking really a biblical concept? It can certainly be and often is. Here are some well-known examples:

• Joab, outnumbered and surrounded, rallied his troops saying, “Be of good courage, and let us be courageous for our people, and for the cities of our God, and may the LORD do what seems good to Him.” (2 Samuel 10:12)
• Queen Esther’s brave resolve when approaching the king uninvited, risking her life to save her people. “If I perish, I perish.” (Esther 4:16)
• Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to bow to false gods, fully prepared to face the furnace. (Daniel 3:16-18)
• The Apostle Paul, aware of the danger ahead, said, “In every city affliction awaits me.” And still, he went. (Acts 20:23)
• Jesus’ Parable of the Talents. The servant who “played it safe” and buried his talent was rebuked, while the ones who took initiative and risked failure were rewarded. (Matthew 25:24–27)

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The most straightforward call to risk-taking can be found in Ecclesiastes 11:1: “Cast your bread on the surface of the waters, for you will find it after many days…”‍

In the ancient world, merchants had to send grain aboard ships for trade despite the storms, pirates, and delays—failure to do so yielded no return.

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Or what about, “He who watches the wind will not sow, and he who looks at the clouds will not reap…”‍

Any farmer waiting for perfect conditions ends up planting nothing. A whole host of life-lessons can be drawn from this.

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Then there’s “Sow your seed in the morning and do not be idle in the evening, for you do not know whether morning or evening sowing will succeed…”‍

Waiting for everything to line up neatly before casting seeds on the ground is asking for disaster.

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Now is the Time
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There’s a story about a simpleton sitting one evening at the river's brink. A traveler coming up wished his company in crossing. "No," he replied, "I am waiting till the river flows past."

The tiny stream of difficulties between you and your goals for 2026 won’t flow past, but will flow on—broadening and deepening into an angry torrent capable of drowning your resolve.

A Lesson from Donkeys

There’s an old fable from the 1400s: a donkey stood between two equal piles of hay, at equal distances away. Unable to rationalize which pile to go after, it looked back and forth until it eventually starved. At some point, you have to move. You have to act. You have to take a risk.
Christians, don’t be that donkey.

A Lesson from Mules

Did you know that Mules are one-generation animals? That means they can't reproduce. As believers, we're commanded to replicate ourselves; otherwise, we fade out. For replication to occur, evangelism must be present. Sharing your faith with others can be uncomfortable. I get it. But go ahead and take the risk. Don't forget-somebody out there obviously took a big risk with you.

Christians, don't be mules.

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In my experience, I rarely see God reward believers for staying in their comfort zones. In fact, Christian growth and remaining comfortable appear antithetical.

How can I say that? Just read Mark’s Gospel. Hoping you will this week, write down the names of people who took risks by approaching Jesus. It’s as if complacency got cast aside, replaced by intimacy with Christ as a result.

As a call to action, I’m not encouraging anyone to be reckless—God’s Law is a preventative against it. But to step out in godly confidence—by leaning upon His might, power, and ability rather than your own. I believe you can expect Him, not yourself, to do “immeasurably more than you ask or imagine” in 2026. That kinda sounds biblical, right? As if He were the vine, and we are the branches, and we could do nothing apart from Him. Go figure.

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