Fear. Such a small word for such a vast, complicated topic. This was a tough one. I far prefer writing about things that are funny or beautiful or going well. Riding the high waves of the good life is where I would like to stay, but for every mountain there is a valley. What we can see from the peaks is completely different to what we can see from the low places. Perhaps talking about what is broken, missing and upsetting is just as important as talking about all the wins and celebrations and good times. Just maybe, someone is in the valley today. Could it be that you think you will never breathe fresh, mountain air again? Or maybe you went surfing and just when you thought you had finally found your groove everything crashed and you found yourself under the water struggling to get your bearings. I write for you. Just because you are struggling for air right now does not mean the finest oxygen is never yours for the taking. Hang on!
Fear should rise up from time to time when we find ourselves threatened or in danger. It should kick start a reaction in us to either run or fight for our lives. Fear should not be operating when all is perfectly good, well and safe around us. A disturbance of the body, soul or spirit needs setting to rights if this is the case. When something comes to rob us of living peaceful, abundant lives, that thing must be driven away like an outlaw who has been hiding in a town filled with honest folk. It would be madness to let that one foul dot settle in and defile all that is wholesome and sweet.
I used to be afraid of the dark. Really afraid. I can remember playing wonderful games in the garden with my siblings and friends and then I would notice the shadows lengthening and a sense of foreboding would try to settle. I would lose all carefree abandon and playtime, for me, would end. On one occasion it was really intense and I went and sat by my mom’s feet, unable to explain why I needed to be close. I was scared for no good reason, fear was getting a grip, and my joy for life was giving way to a small, concerned, locked-up life feeling afraid. Night after night I lay awake whilst my family slept – still as anything, but watchful, anxious, listening. The nights passed by, entirely uneventful, but the terror remained and I began to welcome the cockerels crowing because it meant the daylight was coming and I could end my nightly vigil. I was as loved, protected and nurtured as a child could be, my parents did everything right to put my mind at ease, but the irrational fear I was experiencing needed a sword. I was 8 years old when I read Psalm 4 verse 8 and the Lord spoke to my anxious heart. “I go to bed and sleep in peace because You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” From that moment onward there was a shift.
I also struggled with a fear of death. It felt to me that I should never stop being on guard because all of a sudden I might get wiped out. From time to time things would happen that would confirm my fears and I would renew my commitment to living guarded and afraid. During an exciting excursion to the bush, surrounded by classmates, an elephant burst into the clearing in which we were sitting. Chaos broke loose and all I remember is blind panic as children scattered and guides did all they knew to get the situation under control. At one point I looked back to see the elephant towering above one of the men who were watching out for us. Entirely unmatched, it was a battle that could never have been won by the man. Mercifully…miraculously… nobody was hurt, but I cried and cried about what might have happened rather than seeing it as the astounding rescue that it was. Fear thrives when we believe our emotions and circumstances rather than the truth of God’s word. He makes me dwell in safety.
In my mind, fear seemed to be like an octopus. It was as if I had no sooner gained victory and enjoyed a time of light-hearted freedom then I would become aware of another tightening and a continued need to fight to be truly free. I would read my bible, pray, focus on the truth, talk to people, receive prayer and counsel and in so doing, tentacle by dreadful tentacle got severed and lost its grip on me. I was well into my twenties when a friend spent a great deal of time listening to and praying with me. When we were done she asked how I felt and in that moment I realised the ‘octopus’ had lost strength but I still didn’t feel rid of it. I no longer felt debilitated by it, but still seemed, confusingly, attached. It dawned on me that where once something ugly had held me captive, I now held onto it’s last feeble outgrowth. What!? Why would I hold onto the very thing I wanted to be rid of? I had become so accustomed to living with fear that when the battle was over, I had to make a decision to release my grip of all that had held me back.
Whenever we lose something like I lost peace in the night, God restores. He never leaves us in our sorry state where we just have to accept it or deal with it. Yes, darkness is associated with thieves and villains and all kinds of evil crimes that flourish in the secret of night. But darkness is also a holy time, a quiet time, a time to stop racing, a time to sleep, a time for bodies to heal and grow and minds to dream. Rather than something to be afraid of it is something to enjoy. It’s in the black depths of the earth that a planted seed tears apart and a root goes down and a shoot goes up and the potential within is unleashed. Newness! It is in caves and mines that treasure is hidden and we cannot have the treasure without braving the dark. Discovery! For me, labour and birth has mostly occurred in the darkest of night and I have begun to associate the dark with the miracle of life. I once heard that in Spanish, to give birth is translated as ‘to bring forth a light’ or ‘to bring forth to light.’ I am not sure if I quote accurately but I do not think that is a far fetched thought. It’s as if the night welcomes the light. Light is best seen when it is dark. The anguish experienced in the night will be met with light, whether it be birth, a star, a moon or the constant promise of the first light of dawn. The light will come. Nowadays, I can walk down to lock the gate long after the sun has set. Instead of running from imagined foes, I stop and listen. Did the bush baby family come back? What’s that scurrying through fallen leaves? Look at those stars twinkling. Smell the jasmine. Savour the peace and quiet. Settle into the stillness. The octopus lies in a heap.
I hope many of you live bold lives, completely unafraid. I am quite sure there will be some who have to admit that yes, fear has got a grip. Maybe it strikes sharp and is short lived; just enough for you to lose your confidence and decide to hide and not do the fabulous, risky thing you were going to do. Maybe you have lived with it, familiar yet never invited, your whole life. You are not running or fighting, you are immobilised. I encourage you to acknowledge it is there if it is. You were not created to live with a troubled heart. God is love (1 John 4 verse 7) and He has told us that perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4 verse 18). I am sure there are many ways to be rid of it, but from my experience there is nothing so effective as Love Himself taking it and throwing it as far away as the east is from the west. The scriptures are our sword for battle. I needed to cut to shreds eight strangling legs. You might need to send a single blow down on a serpents head using your sword like you are chopping wood. I don’t think there are any rules as such. Freedom from fear took time for me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a completely different story for you and your heart feels as light and free as a hot air balloon floating in the clouds just moments after you declare “God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1 verse 7)
Psalm 34 verse 4 – I sought the Lord and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears.
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