They run rampant through our culture and our lives during normal circumstances, but since the word “pandemic” became part of our daily vocabulary, our collective fear seems to be racing full speed ahead toward panic.
Every day, I feel bombarded by input that strikes my heart with icy cold fear. As the death toll from this virus rises, how long can it be true that no one I love has fallen victim to it? As grocery store shelves empty, how long will I be able to keep balanced, nourishing meals on our table? At times, our very survival feels threatened and human beings are wired to respond to these perceived threats with either fight or flight. Both responses involve fear. Adrenaline courses through us, our hearts beat faster, and all our systems are ready to do whatever is necessary to survive.
The same God who designed our bodies with these fear responses also has a lot to say about how we manage them. Depending on which Bible translation you prefer, you might come up with different totals of how many times the words fear, afraid, or worry appear in both the Old and New Testaments, but it will be in the hundreds. The actual number isn’t important. The fact that it’s in there a lot tells us a few things:
We are not the first people to be afraid. (This might sound obvious, but I find it helpful to remember.)
God sees our fear and does not ignore it.
God has instructions and help for us in the midst of our fear.
Since all of this started, I’ve felt God nudging me to look at these verses more closely, so I can learn from them and let His Spirit speak to me in the midst of a scary time. And now I feel a similar nudging to share these reflections with others who might also benefit from these words. In the midst of uncertain times, God is still Sovereign and none of this is a threat to Him. May this be a time of refining for the Church. I can’t wait to see the fruit He brings out of it!
When I first started writing a 30-day devotional about fear, I framed it in terms of the pandemic, because I knew that that was something that everyone could relate to on some level. In a time of deep division, the pandemic was something we all had in common. At least this felt true when it all started. But the truth I didn’t publicly acknowledge was that my family had gotten a little head-start in the fear department. My words were relating to the pandemic, but my heart was wrestling with something in addition to it.
I don’t think this makes the words any less true or honest. It was never my intention to hide anything. The reality was that my dad was battling leukemia, and I couldn’t tell my full story of the fears I was facing without also sharing his – and I didn’t have permission to do that.
This also serves as an explanation for why I said I’d be taking a week or two off to evaluate and reflect how to move forward, but this page has been silent for months. In that time, the thing that I was afraid of happened. My dad passed away. And it has taken me a long time to feel ready to let words emerge from the cloud of grief. I’m still not sure that I’m ready, but here goes…
It seems to me that our most common method of dealing with fear is to convince ourselves that the thing we fear isn’t actually going to happen. Like a child who fears a monster in the closet, we open the closet door and shine a flashlight to show that it’s just clothes and shoes and maybe a bike helmet on the shelf. Our eyes and imaginations have tricked us into fearing a danger that wasn’t real. “Don’t be afraid because there’s nothing to fear,” we tell ourselves.
I did this for months, however unconsciously. Watching my dad struggle through a year of treatments, including a bone marrow transplant, was horrible in so many ways. I feared the feelings of helplessness. I feared reaching the unwanted milestone when roles reverse and the children start caring for the parent. I was afraid of so many things, but when the fear of losing him reared its head, I was able to convince myself that this was a monster in the closet. There was no need to fear this loss because it wasn’t going to happen.
Even when the cancer reappeared after we thought it was gone. We’ll just endure more treatments. Even when they said that the leukemia wasn’t responding to treatment. My husband said we should start heading for Pennsylvania, but I said there are more things they can try. It’s going to be ok. Not until we heard the words hospice and quality of life and make the most of the remaining time did I begin to understand that this thing I was so afraid of could actually happen… and was actually about to happen.
What happens when we turn on the lights and instead of a pile of clothes, we find that the monster is real? When we have no choice but to meet it face to face?
From an early age we learn to deal with our fears through denying there is anything to be afraid of. When a child has a nightmare, we are quick to reassure her that it was just a dream. When kids worry about staying with a babysitter while their parents go out, we insist that we will always come back so there’s nothing to fear. It is well-intentioned, but so many of us have learned that the way to cope with fears is to deny that they are valid. Where does that leave us when our worst fears are realized?
After spending weeks reflecting on all of those “fear not” passages from the Bible, I’m finally realizing that none of them say “Fear not for there is nothing to fear.” God’s way of meeting our fears fully acknowledges that we are afraid of life’s most painful moments, without pretending that there is a way to avoid this pain. He never says that there is no monster in the closet, but he reminds us again and again that he is bigger than the monster. (“God is bigger than the boogie man!” Any other Veggie Tales fans out there?) Our reason not to fear is not because all the bad things are just in our imaginations, but because whatever it is we’re afraid of – He is bigger. Whatever it is. Even death.
For over a year, my biggest fear was that I would lose my dad. And then I did. Some days the grief is so big that it literally takes my breath away. Yet somehow, God is still bigger. I wish I could explain it better than that, but for now that’s all I have. It’s all I have, but it is enough.
My dad spent his last days in this life fully aware that he was dying. He walked through them bravely, surrounded by his family, with full confidence that God was bigger than even death. While he would have wished to have more time with the people he loved, he looked forward to meeting his Savior face to face, with nothing more to suffer or fear ever again. The last lesson my dad ever taught me was what it can really mean to “fear not.”
“‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:55-57
Poppop and Emelie, September 2009Poppop and Peter, August 2012Poppop and Micah, Thanksgiving 2016Father of the Bride, August 2002
When I first started this devotional blog, I was feeling led to share my own reflections on Scripture that were helping me with feelings of fear and uncertainty in light of the coronavirus pandemic. My goal was to start with 30 days and then reevaluate. Who knew what the future held? Who could have imagined that the crisis would continue on this long or that it would shine a spotlight on so many other issues in our society. We are still living in very uncertain times.
I saw a funny quote the other day on social media: About the only thing any of us knows for sure right now is that in 2015, not a single person got the answer right to “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”
Yesterday’s post was Day 30 of the devotional series and so I’m going to pause for about a week to reflect and evaluate. I think it’s healthy to regularly take a step back and ask ourselves what’s working and what isn’t. Honestly this is an important practice for almost anything in life. The laws of inertia tell us that objects at rest will stay at rest and objects in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. Sometimes we need to interrupt our momentum and make sure it’s still taking us in the direction we want to go.
Some parts of my evaluation process will be done privately – between me and God and me and my family. But if you have joined me on the journey in any way, I’d like you to be a part of helping me evaluate as well. There are two ways to do that:
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The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”
Like many other people, I have recently been making an effort to learn more about American history, particularly regarding issues of race, that I either wasn’t taught in high school or simply don’t remember learning. In my reading, I came across the story of Elizabeth Key.
Elizabeth Key was born in the 1630s in Virginia, the daughter of an enslaved African woman and a white English planter. Her father acknowledged her as his daughter, and christened her with his last name. As an adult, Elizabeth Key sued for her freedom from slavery on the basis of her father’s identity and it was granted. While this legal loophole was quickly closed, the law at the time in England and its colonies was that a child’s status was determined by who his or her father was.
Slavery is evil in all its forms, whether the legal institution that ended long ago in the western world or the less visible forms that persist to this day in all parts of the world. Or the form that continues to plague each of our hearts, in ways both obvious and cleverly hidden.
Fear is an enslaver of the human heart. When our hearts are in bondage to fear, we are obliged to allow it to master us. Fear tells us how to respond to our circumstances and to the people around us. Fear speaks and we cannot see the difference between lies and the truth. It is a cruel master that makes us do things we otherwise wouldn’t do. And so very many of us have accepted its power over us, even in the subtlest of ways.
The reason Elizabeth Key needed to sue for her freedom was that her father died and without his protection, she was being forced back into slavery. But she was a strong, brave woman who knew who she was and who her father was, and she refused to accept that slavery was her lot in life.
Romans 8:15 tells us that when we receive the Spirit of God, it is like Elizabeth’s father christening her with his name. God is claiming us, adopting us as sons and daughters, and conferring upon us the rights we are entitled to because he is our Father. While we will never lack his protection, we are still prone to surrender to voices that would return us to bondage. But we are children of God! When I remember that my identity is in who my Father is, then I can assert my right to be free. Fear is not my master and has no claim on my heart – unless I allow it.
Galatians 5:1 reminds us that, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” We cannot afford to be complacent because we will constantly be confronted with choices to exercise our freedom or to submit to bondage.
To clarify, in drawing parallels between physical slavery and spiritual slavery, it is not my intention to diminish in any way the suffering of those whose bodies have been claimed as property by another person. Physical and spiritual bondage are related but not the same. But we downplay the reality of spiritual enslavement to our own peril, and I hope that the comparison can help us all to discover the freedom that can be ours. I am convinced that it is only through experiencing true freedom that we can see and fight injustice wherever it exists.
The enemy of our souls would love nothing more than to use fear to ensnare us back into spiritual slavery. For 30 days, we have explored God’s word to learn the truth about fear and strategies to help us resist its influence. I have to make a choice every day, often many times each day, if I am going to use these tools or not – and so do you. I sincerely pray that, in community, we will help each other to choose freedom every time.
I love the woods and the creek that runs near my house. When the quarantine began and we were confined to our homes, I began to spend more and more time there. It was a place to be alone with my thoughts, a place where I could hear my own heart, and a place to hear God’s heart too. Three and a half months later, I still find myself there quite often, giving me the medicine I need.
Photo: Nina Taylor
On Sunday morning I walked there with a friend. My church is now open in a certain capacity, but I’m playing it safe with COVID and I don’t expect to attend church in person anytime soon. My friend and I talked about how the woods are a living temple to the living God. Being surrounded by the singing birds and soaring trees doesn’t feel entirely different than worshiping in a church surrounded by humans.
Luke 19:37–40 says: When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” “I tell you,”he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
I tend to think that the stones are always crying out. The bush is always burning. The trees are always praising. The mountains are always speaking of God’s majestic strength. The creek is always singing about the way obstacles make the music. The ocean waves resound with the persistence of a God who is always with us. The scent of flowers hints at a beauty that cannot be contained. Together with the creatures from the highest peaks to the ocean depths, all of creation speaks its own facet of the truth.
Photo: Nina Taylor
This is what I know when I seek the solitude of the outside world. Creation embodies itself, and because it is always true to itself, it is constantly singing its own song of praise to its maker. Here is the challenge I hear the woods whisper to me: How will you live fully present in the miracle of your own life? What song will you sing with the time that is given to you? The trees and the creek never waste a minute being what they are not. How about you?
