I am not afraid... I was born to do this.

Hear, O soul of courage, the immortal words of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orléans, who once declared: “I am not afraid… I was born to do this.” These words thunder across the centuries, a cry of destiny uttered by a young woman who stood against kings, armies, and death itself. They are not the voice of pride, but of calling; not the boast of arrogance, but the conviction of one who knew her place in the great design of heaven. In them lies a lesson for all ages: fear vanishes when a soul embraces its purpose.

To say “I am not afraid” is to silence the whispers of terror that bind most hearts. Fear is natural—it rises when danger looms, when death draws near, when the unknown stretches before us. Yet Joan, a peasant girl scarcely seventeen, walked unarmed into the courts of princes and the chaos of battle. Her courage was not the absence of fear, but its conquest. She trusted that she was guided by something greater than herself, and so she could face swords, flames, and accusations without trembling.

And she added: “I was born to do this.” These words reveal the fire of purpose. Every soul is born with gifts, with a task, with a destiny unique to them. Many live without discovering it; others glimpse it but shrink back in doubt. But Joan embraced hers with her whole being. She believed her mission was ordained—to lift her nation, to crown her king, to stand as God’s servant in a time of despair. In her conviction, she found strength greater than armies. When a person knows their calling, they cannot be stopped, not even by death.

Consider her story. France was shattered, its throne uncertain, its people broken by war. Into this ruin came a girl who claimed visions from heaven. The wise men mocked her, the powerful doubted her, yet her faith moved soldiers to follow her, and her presence turned despair into hope. She led armies to victory, broke the siege of Orléans, and altered the course of a nation. Her deeds, born of conviction, still echo six centuries later. Her life was short, but her flame has never gone out.

So too with others who walked in destiny’s path. Think of Martin Luther King Jr., who declared, “I have a dream,” though he knew the danger awaiting him. Or of Malala Yousafzai, who, even after an assassin’s bullet, continued her mission to defend education. Each of them could have said, with Joan, “I am not afraid… I was born to do this.” Their courage was not in being invincible, but in knowing that their lives had a purpose greater than fear.

The meaning is clear: fear cannot rule a life that has found its calling. To discover what you were “born to do” is to discover a strength unshakable by mockery, failure, or even death. Destiny transforms weakness into power, and clarity of purpose casts out terror. Those who know their mission walk with the majesty of kings, though they may wear the clothes of peasants.

O listener, take this wisdom to heart. Ask yourself not, “What do I fear?” but, “What was I born to do?” Seek your purpose with courage, and when you find it, embrace it with your whole soul. When fear rises, speak to it with Joan’s words: “I am not afraid… I was born to do this.” For within those words lies the strength to face battlefields, hardships, and trials alike.

Thus the legacy of Joan of Arc endures: purpose is stronger than fear, and destiny is stronger than death. Let her words be the cry of your heart when doubt presses in. Live not as one who trembles before life, but as one who was born for this hour, this task, this mission. For in truth—you were.