Wisdom

The Greatest Risk in Life is Not to Take Risk

There’s nothing without risk, and without risk, there’s nothing.

Alice

27 Jan 2026 — 9 min read

“If I perish, I perish.”
Esther 4:16

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” Jeremiah 29:11

The KJV is the only version that translates this verse as an expected end, while all the others render it as a future and a hope.

That unique translation got me thinking.

“An expected end”—not just something you desire or wish for, but something you expect to happen.

Faith is not about what you wish for, but what you expect to happen—and that expectation is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen (Hebrews 11:1).

If you pray for rain and truly have faith, you go out with an umbrella.

Your behavior reveals your expectation—the true measure of your faith.

I’ve recently discovered that faith not only “comes by hearing,” but also comes with risk. To move a mountain by faith, you must risk not being able to move that mountain.

🎁Bless yourself and others a renewed mind for the New Year:

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I’m often asked, How were you able to do that?

What they’re really asking is: How did you convince yourself to take such a risk? A risk where, if you failed, you’d lose everything?

That question made me realize: I didn’t even think about failure when I took the risk.

It was almost like a birth defect: just as God “cannot” lie, I simply can’t process what-ifs.

But now, as I reflect on my decision-making so I can help others who are paralyzed by what-ifs, I believe the answer lies in:

sound judgment,
value examination.

Before I take a risk, I don’t ask myself, “What if I fail?”
Instead, I ask, “What if I don’t try?”

What is the risk of not taking the risk?

Once I’m clear on the answer—and once I judge that the cost of not taking the risk is more unbearable than the risk itself—I move forward without hesitation or second-guessing.

This mindset long existed before I was born, captured in Queen Esther’s famous words: “If I perish, I perish.”

Not that she didn’t care about dying, but that the risk of not risking her life was far greater than the risk of risking it.

Not that I don’t care about failure or loss, but that the risk of not taking the risk is too great for me to live with.

For one, I hate regret with a passion.

For another, I fear God more than any risk.

You don’t truly trust whom you don’t fear.

Faith comes by hearing, and the wisdom to take worthy risks comes from the fear of God.

On one hand, I fear far more the consequences of not taking the risk God wants me to take. I fear missing out on His best—and His best requires me to risk all I have, believe, and hold onto.

Hence, there’s nothing that is “too good to be true”—because I expect the “too good to be true” by letting go of all that is less.

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” John 12:24

On the other hand, I am assured that even if I were to lose all I have, with God I could start all over again and experience a more glorious comeback—for His glory.

I know this life is a virtual reality of the spiritual reality, and it is a game I cannot lose as long as I play by the Creator’s guidebook.

Did I break a law of God by taking this risk?

No?

Then I’'ll do it.

It may appear that I’m in trouble, but it’s a mere illusion—one that those who walk after the flesh take for real.

I don’t take risks because I need to “feel alive”—I risk because I have eternal life.

Nothing in this short life is frightening enough to paralyze me. My life on earth is measured by time but is not limited by time; I am made for the glory of God unto eternity.

Risk is how God tests our faith and obedience.

He called Abraham to abandon everything certain and familiar for a place which He would show him—get out; I will tell you where you’re going when you get there.

He told the priests to step into the Jordan in its flooding season before He parted the river.

He didn’t strike down the Babylonians before the three young men went into the furnace. He showed up in the fire.

“If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.

But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.” Daniel 3:17-18

They told Nebuchadnezzar that even if they were burned to ashes, they would not serve false gods.

They were essentially saying, “If I perish, I perish.”

All the good things in my life, and all the grace and glory of God I’ve tasted, happened this way—and only this way: if I perish, I perish.

If God forsook me, there would be nothing and no one in this life I could not forsake.

If Jesus were a scam, I would not have cared for a second how this life would turn out for me.

I judged this life and this world to be unworthy even before I was a Christian.
I decided in childhood that anything that does not last shall not trouble me.
I want the truth and eternity.

It almost sounds cynical—but the truth is counterintuitive.

By faith, I am emboldened to take worthy risks, for that is the only way to live this life to its full potential. He who risks values life, time, and relationships far more than those who play it safe.

There’s nothing without risk, and without risk, there’s nothing.

I pray that all of us understand what risk we took when we decided to follow Christ.

There’s no real risk in being a Christian in the West—sorry, but your worldly friends no longer hanging out with you is not you “being persecuted,” and you working for a narcissistic boss is not you “suffering for Christ and the Gospel’s sake.”

Nothing is more ironic than a Christian playing it safe.

No decision you will make in this life is riskier than the decision to “give your life to Jesus”—because you might literally give your life to Him.

All the apostles and early church members knew the risk they took when they followed Jesus.

Sadly, we don’t.

The church in the West has lost its saltiness and has loved our life in this world too much, and therefore has become too fearful to risk anything for His will to be done.

“He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.” John 12:25

“You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.” Matthew 5:13

There should be no fear found among you—you who already laid down your life for God’s purpose when you were born again.

If you truly have faith, there is no risk you cannot take in this life.

Yet you don’t risk falling in love.
You don’t risk getting married young.
You don’t risk raising children early on.
You don’t risk starting that business.
You don’t risk quitting the job you hate.
You don’t risk chasing your childhood dreams.
You don’t risk leaving your father’s house.
You don’t risk moving to another country.

In fact, you won’t even risk trying a different dish at your favorite restaurant—because, well… what if I don’t like it?

Even the risk of ordering a dish you might not like is too much for you to bear.

If you want your life to be different, you must risk doing things that have never been done.

I do not know a single worthy thing in this life that does not come with risk. I do not know a single investment that is not as ludicrous as it is risky.

The worthier it is, the riskier it will be.

The more successful experiences you have in life, the more likely you are to risk—and the more you risk, the more positive experiences you will have. Success gives you the confidence to expect a desired outcome, and our expectations tend to reaffirm our beliefs—whether those beliefs elevate or sabotage us.

As we discussed from the beginning, your expectation is where your faith stands. And so, what you expect to happen will happen, for “according to your faith, be it unto you.” (Matthew 9:29)

Poor people don’t risk giving—and they remain poor.
Obese people don’t risk losing weight—and they remain obese.
Lonely people don’t risk connection—and they remain lonely.
Unloved people don’t risk loving others—and they remain unloved.
Disappointed people don’t risk expectation—and they remain disappointed.

Every self-sabotaging cycle has a hidden what-if.

What-if is the language of fear, and faith is all about even-if.