When Fears are Realized

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