Resist your fear; fear will never lead to you a positive end. Go

Host: The night pressed close around the bridge, a long stretch of steel and concrete stretching across the sleeping river. The city lights glimmered in the distance — cold, distant, like half-remembered promises. Below, the water moved slow and dark, carrying reflections of a world that never stopped trembling.

Jack stood at the railing, his hands clenched around the cold metal, breath clouding in the chill air. He looked like a man carved out of shadow — still, but full of motion inside. Jeeny stood a few feet away, her scarf fluttering in the wind, her eyes fixed on him with quiet concern.

The moonlight painted them both in silver. The sound of the river below was like an old hymn — low, steady, indifferent.

Jeeny: “T. D. Jakes once said, ‘Resist your fear; fear will never lead you to a positive end. Go for your faith and what you believe.’” Her voice was soft, but it cut through the wind like a thread of light. “You ever tried that, Jack?”

Jack: without turning around “Faith? Sure. When I was younger. I used to think it was enough to just believe in something. Turns out belief doesn’t pay rent or stop loss.”

Host: The wind carried the smell of rain and rust. Jack’s reflection shimmered in the river — broken, multiplied. He looked down at it like a man seeing all his other versions staring back.

Jeeny: “Then maybe you weren’t believing in the right thing.”

Jack: “And what’s the ‘right thing,’ Jeeny? Faith in people? In love? In God? All three will disappoint you if you wait long enough.”

Jeeny: “Then don’t wait. Live through it. That’s what faith means — moving through fear, not waiting for it to vanish.”

Jack: “You make it sound easy.”

Jeeny: smiling sadly “It’s not easy. It’s war.”

Host: The wind picked up, pushing against them both, almost as if the night itself was testing their conviction. Jeeny walked closer, her boots scraping against the concrete, stopping beside him. She leaned on the railing, looking at the same dark water.

Jeeny: “You think fear protects you, Jack. But it doesn’t. It just keeps you small enough to fit into your own excuses.”

Jack: “You think courage pays better?”

Jeeny: “No. But it costs less in regret.”

Host: He turned his head, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes were sharp — the gray of storms, the gray of someone who’d seen too much to trust easily.

Jack: “You talk about fear like it’s a choice. You ever watched something fall apart that you built with your own hands? You ever watched everything you love walk away, one piece at a time?”

Jeeny: “Yes.” Her voice was quiet, steady, unflinching. “And that’s exactly why I’m not afraid of losing anymore.”

Jack: “That’s not faith. That’s resignation.”

Jeeny: “No. It’s knowing that fear doesn’t stop pain — it just postpones it. Faith doesn’t promise you’ll win, Jack. It promises you’ll still stand after the losing.”

Host: The bridge trembled faintly as a truck passed in the distance, its headlights briefly washing over their faces — light and shadow flickering across their features like a slow-moving memory.

Jack: “You sound like one of those people who turns suffering into slogans.”

Jeeny: smirking softly “And you sound like one of those people who confuses fear with wisdom.”

Jack: gritting his teeth slightly “Maybe wisdom is knowing the fire burns before you stick your hand in it.”

Jeeny: “Or maybe faith is keeping your hand there long enough to pull something precious out.”

Host: The river wind whipped her hair across her face, but she didn’t brush it away. She just stood there, breathing deeply — her expression calm but burning.

Jack: “You really think belief is stronger than fear?”

Jeeny: “It’s not stronger. It’s quieter. But it lasts longer. Fear shouts; faith whispers. Fear ends; faith endures.”

Jack: “Then why does fear win so often?”

Jeeny: “Because people listen to what’s loudest, not what’s truest.”

Host: For a moment, neither spoke. The silence felt alive — full of wind, breath, and everything they weren’t saying. Jack looked out at the horizon, where the lights of the city pulsed faintly like distant stars trying to be heard.

Jack: “You know what I fear most?”

Jeeny: “What?”

Jack: “Not failing. Not dying. Just… not mattering.”

Jeeny: softly “Then maybe your faith should be in something that outlasts you.”

Jack: “Like what? Legacy?”

Jeeny: “No. Like kindness. Like truth. Like the small good things that ripple outward. Faith isn’t always grand — sometimes it’s as simple as showing up again after fear told you not to.”

Host: The rain began — light at first, soft enough to feel rather than hear. It streaked down Jack’s face, mingling with the cigarette smoke that still clung to him.

Jack: “You know, I once had a friend who wanted to be a musician. Brilliant guy. He told me he’d start recording once he wasn’t afraid of failing. Ten years later, he still hadn’t written a single song. I guess fear gave him a perfect record — no failures, no music either.”

Jeeny: “That’s the curse, isn’t it? Fear preserves you, but faith creates you. He kept his pride, but lost his purpose.”

Jack: “So what’s your faith in, Jeeny? What keeps you moving?”

Jeeny: “That love — even broken love — still means something. That compassion changes things, even when no one notices. That hope, no matter how fragile, still builds bridges in a world obsessed with walls.”

Host: The wind softened, as if listening. The rain blurred the city’s reflection on the river into streaks of light — blue, gold, red — blending into something like grace.

Jack: after a long silence “You know, sometimes I think fear’s easier. At least it’s familiar. Faith asks you to step into darkness. Fear asks you to stay where you are.”

Jeeny: “And staying where you are is its own kind of dying.”

Jack: nodding slowly “Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing.”

Jeeny: “Then stop. Step forward. Even if you don’t know where it leads.”

Host: He turned toward her, really seeing her now — the rain on her face, the fire in her eyes. Something in him shifted — a small, fragile tremor, but real. He took a single step toward her.

Jack: quietly “You make it sound like faith is easy.”

Jeeny: “No, Jack. Faith isn’t easy. It’s terrifying. But it’s the only thing that’s ever made life worth the terror.”

Host: The rain slowed. The river below rippled, alive with light. Jeeny’s scarf lifted in the wind — a red ribbon twisting in the night air like a fragile flame refusing to die. Jack reached out and caught it gently, holding it between his fingers.

Jack: “Maybe I’ll start small. One fear at a time.”

Jeeny: smiling “That’s how every believer starts.”

Host: They stood there — two silhouettes on the bridge, facing the wind, facing themselves. The camera pulled back, rising over the water, the city beyond glowing faintly through the mist.

The voice of the world below — cars, wind, rain — faded until only Jeeny’s words remained, soft and resolute:

“Resist your fear. It was never meant to lead you. Follow your faith instead — even if it’s trembling.”

And beneath them, the river kept flowing — dark, endless, faithful — carrying reflections of courage through the heart of the night.