Fear Is Just A Bully

Lately I've been out-running a monster. It's teeth are sharp and sink into the flesh of my soul. Every time I think about the what ifs I can feel it's hot breath.

Maybe in the dark you wonder, as I do, if the sting and ache of giving birth really is easier than the raising of the young ones. What if parts get broken that can't be fixed. What if little arms eager now for a hug stop hugging, or hug the wrong person, or fall still in illness. The black hole of what ifs could drown a mother's heart.

And then God's call to follow him, in hazy moments, looms like a mountain, bigger than Everest ever was. What if my heart can't contain the pain I find where he leads, or bursts from the love. What if I'm haunted by the blue eyes of the little boy lying in his crib, forever? What if I fail. At what, I'm not even sure.

The foul breath of "not enough" stalks me when I scroll through Pinterest. (I stopped watching the news years ago because I knew red eyes lurked behind headlines, waiting to consume me.) But it's there, down grocery isles, and in magazines, behind Facebook posts, I feel it's hot breath.

The stench of Fear, and his brother Failure, wafts around me at night as I try to sleep. 

Why? I say I believe God is who he says he is and will do what he says he'll do. But I doubt myself. 

Is redemption more powerful than the brokenness, forgiveness weightier than the chains, will he keep his word even to one such as me? Have you ever asked yourself those questions? 

And then the darkness fades and I read words that swell my eyes with tears and shape my lips into a yes.

Those who enter into Christ’s being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death. God went for the jugular when he sent his own Son. He didn’t deal with the problem as something remote and unimportant. In his Son, Jesus, he personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all...So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? ~ Romans 8:1-4, 31 The Message

Did you just fall a little bit more in love? If that doesn't take care of every fear and what if I don't know what possibly could. I've known, but I'm learning anew, that looking at every situation, every person, every weakness through Jesus changes everything. 

When the teeth of fear sink into our hearts Jesus is the only antidote. Ask your fears "is there anything, ANYTHING, else God wouldn't gladly and freely do for me, the one he loves, the one who's trusting him?" And of course the answer is no. He's given everything already, there's nothing left to hold back. 

Play the what if game. What if the job is lost, the child is ill, the friendship ends, the money runs out, the dream's too big, the adoption drags on? Nothing happens, because nothing can separate us from the Love of our life, our Jesus! Nothing. 

Whew, I needed to hear that! Maybe you did too. Fear is just a bully with little ammunition and no power, because we belong to Jesus.

 

So go face your day, your life, unafraid. And the next time I whimper in fear, remind me fear is just a bully. I'll remind you too!

Letting Go Of Fear

What's Holding Me Back

I'm afraid. Man I hate seeing those words in black and white. I would argue with them, "I am not afraid, I'm bold and courageous." But I really can't.

Life has grabbed me up in it's jaws by the scruff of my tender neck and yanked me around. The reality of living in this broken place will do that, to all of us, now and then. Have you been jerked around by life lately?

The smoke and mirrors of the lies this world tells has left me searching for the purpose I was just holding on to a week or two ago.

The day after I found out my Mom has cancer I got an email from a friend who has sensed God laying ministry to Serbia on her heart as well. Her letter was filled with the same heartache of life that I was feeling. My friend Nichole, who traveled with me to Serbia, called me that week with her own painful news. Hurts and disappointments had piled up at her door as well. Each one of us was experiencing a family crisis, a limiting of resources, the weariness that seeps deep into a soul from being in battle.

It seemed that Mom's illness was the straw that broke the back of the proverbial camel. I was shaken. It pealed back and revealed other wounds tucked away. This past season of ministry left more scars than victories on the tender skin of my heart and I've realized I really haven't dealt with them. I've let the experience define who I am rather than what God says about me. Truth be told I wonder if I've really dealt with the scars from the ministry experience before that.

I found out that a young woman I mentored has divorced, I really don't know if she's walking with Jesus, and it grieves me. Could I have done more? The question drifts in on the wings of pain, "am I enough?" Maybe you ask that same question.

I fight with words regularly. Are they a gift God has graciously set in my hand, or a wisp of smoke, a dream I chase. Am I really a writer? It's hard to tell. Homeschooling, well maybe we shouldn't even go there. I've loved my time with my children, but I'm not at all certain this year has been effective in my son's educational process.

Just a few months ago I felt confident. What happened? I find myself in a slow crawl instead of a brisk stride.

Moving forward with passion and conviction to love the  residents of Dom Veternik scares me the worst of all. What if I fail? Public humiliation, international exposure of my weaknesses, it's the stuff nightmares are made out of.

Laying Fear Down

I think, though, that a hands and knees crawl is a good place to be. Bowed down for blessing. Isn't that where so many men and women of the Bible found themselves blessed? Mary giving birth, prostrate, vulnerable, and in pain received the fulfillment of promise into her waiting arms. I remember childbirth, it lays you flat, takes your breath away, and drains you of yourself. I'm amazed that in that moment Salvation exploded onto the scene, as a helpless child. God sure has a funny way of doing things.

And so I find myself once again, obsessed with God's glory. More afraid I will miss out on the light of salvation dawning on the people of Serbia than that I will expose myself to public, international, humiliation.

In the midst of all of these vulnerabilities came words that spoke to my deepest fears of not being wanted, needed, or enough. An anonymous comment (actually there were a few) on a post telling me I was an enemy to the Serbian people, not wanted or needed, accusing me of false humanity. Instead of deleting the comment I've left it. Because really words intended to wound were a gift. They caused me to look more deeply at my motivation and ask God to purify it, to use what was of him and strip away my own pride and self, there is always work to be done in that area. The Serbian people don't need me, and I needed to be reminded of that. Traveling to Serbia, praying for God's goodness in their lives, witnessing love and mercy, that's a gift. God merely invited me to see what he is already doing, honoring his own name and offering mercy to anyone who wants it.

So, I guess for the last few weeks the fight has been one of engagement. Will I gather my wounds and fears close to my chest and protect them like treasures, stepping away from people and circumstances that could wound me further? Or will I lay them down as an offering at Jesus' most worthy feet as a gift of trust, bearing the scars as a reminder of his grace, and walk back to the fight of loving, praying, and going?

I choose the later, but it's a daily, if not hourly, choice. I don't really know what that means for my future with Serbia. I pray to return, I desire to work for their good, I hope to be a part of their story. And in this new season of church ministry I'm still looking for my place. I'm waiting on God's leading and provision for the next step. So, I stretch my hands open in availability to him, palms up, ready to receive the blessing.

Maybe you feel the same way, a little gun shy. Afraid to engage in life. Perhaps you'll be as emboldened as I was by this quote I heard in the movie "Mirror Mirror" recently. The King says to the Prince on his wedding day, after victory is won, "You found this kingdom caught in the clutches of greed and vanity, yet you did not retreat, you entered the fight, we all owe you and your brave compatriots a great debt of gratitude."

Our elder brother, Jesus, didn't retreat from this world, he entered the fight and now he holds open the door for us to join him. I want to enter the fight. Will you?

The Way To Serbia

I'm linking up with my friend Ellen today to share Something I Fear.

How do you get to Serbia? I've asked myself that question many times in the last few months. Besides getting to the point that one would want to go to Serbia, which is a whole other post, how does one do it? At times I feel like I might as well say I want to go to the moon.

But it's not the moon I want to go to. It's a long trip, to visit flesh and blood, that God has put on my heart. A strong theology is important, but it's meaningless if it doesn't move us. The way to Serbia is through the heart of God.

It's a trip taken on the prayers of an eight year old for his mommy. Asking in faith, "God help Mommy have the money to go to Serbia so she can get the kids without family's bigger beds and toys, and teach others how to love them."

I can't talk about loving orphans if I'm not willing to show them what that looks like. I'm going to Serbia on the prayers and accountability of my children.

It's a huge undertaking, going to Serbia. But it's not the going that I fear; the being far from home, or the different culture, or the hard to love people. No, I'm not afraid of going. I'm more afraid of not going.

What I fear the most is the possibility of living a life that doesn't matter. I'm afraid of having a faith that doesn't transform or love that doesn't act. I'm afraid of words ringing hollow in my children's ears, not matching up with my actions.

I'm terribly afraid of Christianity that is boring.

I couldn't bear it if the transformation offered in the New Testament, the promise of a filled up life, the gift of joyous living, wasn't true. I need to know that worship is more than a song we sing on Sundays; but a way to live, testifying that we believe every word God has spoken.

The only way I know to fight the fear of dead religion is to pursue a living one.

What is something you fear? How do you combat your fears?