I don't know what kind of courage it took thousands of years ago

When Beth Moore declared, “I don’t know what kind of courage it took thousands of years ago, but I know how courageous women need to be today,” she spoke as one who has looked deeply into the struggles of her own time and found within them the timeless call to bravery. Her words are both a confession and a proclamation—a bridge between the past and the present, between the heroines of history and the women who rise each morning to face a world that still demands courage from them. In her voice, we hear both reverence for those who came before and recognition of the strength required now. For though the ages have changed, the essence of courage remains: the will to stand firm in truth, to endure hardship, and to live with integrity in the face of fear.

Beth Moore, a writer, teacher, and woman of faith, has long championed the dignity and spiritual strength of women in a world that often seeks to silence them. Her words arise not from abstraction, but from experience—from witnessing women face injustice, loneliness, and doubt, and still persist in faith and purpose. She acknowledges that the courage of ancient women—of queens, prophets, and warriors—was real and fierce, yet she insists that modern courage, though it may wear different garments, is no less heroic. For today’s women must fight not only battles of survival, but battles of the spirit—against isolation, inequality, cynicism, and the quiet erosion of self-worth.

In the days of old, women like Esther stood before kings to plead for their people; Deborah led armies beneath the burning sun; and Mary, humble and unassuming, bore the hope of the world within her heart. Their courage was outwardly visible, carved into the stories of nations. But the courage that Moore speaks of is often quieter—hidden within everyday acts of faithfulness and strength. It is the courage to raise a child alone, to speak truth in a place of silence, to endure rejection for the sake of conviction, or to rise after being wounded again and again. These are not the battles sung by poets, but they are the battles that shape the soul of a generation.

There is a story that captures this spirit well—the story of Malala Yousafzai, who as a young girl in Pakistan defied the darkness of oppression by insisting on her right to learn. She faced bullets and threats, yet her voice did not falter. In her courage, we see the same fire that burned in the women of the ancients, though its form has changed. Malala’s weapon was not the sword, but the word; not armor, but conviction. She stands as living proof of Moore’s wisdom—that the courage required today is no less than that of millennia past, though it moves through new struggles and speaks in new tongues.

Courage, as Moore reveals, is not confined to the grand or historic—it is born in the daily resolve to live as one’s true self in a world that demands compromise. It is the mother who works through exhaustion to provide, the survivor who learns to trust again, the student who raises her voice in defense of truth, the believer who holds fast to faith in a cynical age. The heroism of ancient times may have been measured in battles and crowns, but the heroism of our age is measured in perseverance, in compassion, and in the refusal to surrender hope. To live fully, joyfully, and freely as a woman today is itself an act of courage.

Yet Moore’s words are not only about women—they are a mirror for all who live in modern times. For courage now must contend with subtler enemies: indifference, distraction, despair. It no longer demands the spear or the shield, but the strength to stay kind in a cruel world, to stay faithful in a faithless one, to love when love seems foolish. The ancients fought with their hands; we must fight with our hearts. The battlefield has changed, but the call to bravery has not diminished—it has only deepened, demanding both tenderness and resilience in equal measure.

So, my daughters and sons of the present age, take this teaching into your spirit: do not compare your courage with that of the past, but recognize its own sacred form in your life today. Whether your trial is public or private, whether your voice echoes in crowds or whispers in solitude, know that every act of goodness in the face of fear is a victory of the soul. Courage is not the absence of fear but the triumph of love and purpose over it. As Beth Moore reminds us, the courage required now is no less great than that of the ancients—it is simply different, quieter, yet equally divine. Walk forward, then, not longing to live in the legends of yesterday, but striving to create the light of today. For the age we live in needs your strength—and your courage—is the story future generations will one day tell.