On Not Being Afraid

It occurred to me just this morning that it's over halfway through September.  The year is ever so gradually coming to a close.  If you've been keeping up with my blogs for a while, you might know that I have a theme for each year that I choose from the Biblical Christmas story.  This year's theme: "Do Not Be Afraid."

And what an interesting year it has been.

I had no idea how many lessons God would teach me, nor did I have an idea of how He would teach them.  At the beginning of the year, I figured God would teach me how to be less fearful or something.  I really didn't know what to expect.  It's been a journey.

This year, I learned to let go of things I didn't know I could let go of, and I learned to embrace things I didn't know I could embrace.  I've learned to say yes, and I've learned to say no.  I've learned how to follow, and I've learned how to lead.

I've learned that sometimes you have to gather in faith.  I've learned that sometimes God calls you to scatter in faith what He once had you gather.  And it's good.

I've learned that when I am weak, He is strong.  And you'd think I'd know that one by now.  It's funny how we think we have things figured out all right, and then God shows us our pride in a completely different light.  He is so faithful to show us our need, as well as His provision, and it's good.

I could list all of the various lessons, the various trials.  I could list my victories and my failures and my insecurities.  But, honestly, it's been done.  If you've ever read my blog before, you should know I'm weak.  You should know I'm insecure.  You should know I'm fearful.

And maybe the most important thing I've learned this year, this year with the theme of "Do Not Be Afraid," is that it's okay.  It's okay to be afraid.

Because all my life people have told me that it's not okay to be afraid.  Because people say "don't be afraid," like it's something we actively have some minute amount of control over.  They say, "If you fear, then the Bible says you haven't been perfected in love."  They say, "Well, in the Bible God and His angels tell us over and over to not be afraid or He commands us to be strong and courageous, so we should never, ever be afraid."

But I have to wake up every morning and stare at the ceiling, facing the unknown.  I have to walk outside the door of my house into the world, just praying I don't get too dizzy (due to my neck pain) that I pass out in the driveway.  I have to start my car and hope that it actually starts and doesn't break down on the way to work.  I have to go to work and deal with people who ever, ever threaten my insecurities.  I have to go to social things, whatever they may be, that overstimulate me and threaten to cause anxiety attacks.  I have to go to bed at night, staring at the ceiling again, facing the unknown.

I'm freakin' terrified.

And I think that I probably should be.

And I don't think anything is to be gained by pretending I don't have any fear.

Because I figure that overcoming fear and being perfected in love isn't a matter of just praying a prayer and being cured of fear forever and always.  I figure being perfected always involves a process.  I figure that being perfected in love means you choose love over fear in the millions of little every day issues and problems that arise.  When someone hurts my feelings, instead of brooding in my insecurity, I can choose to love and forgive and remember that others have insecurities too.  When I'm afraid to talk to someone because I don't know how much commitment that friendship might take, I can choose to risk it and love anyway.

And I figure I haven't been perfected in love.  But I figure that I am currently being perfected in love.  And I figure that One Day I'll be fearless, but I'm not there yet.

And I figure that if God and His angels repeated His commands "be strong and courageous" and "don't be afraid" over and over and over again, it's probably because we need the reminders.  We need them constantly, and not because we're fearless.  It's because we're naturally fearful.  We can't just pretend that away.  If we could pray a prayer or sprinkle magic holy dust on ourselves and be fearless forever and always, we wouldn't need the numerous reminders.  God gives them to us because He knows we need them.  We're fearful.  We're ever so fearful.

And that's okay.

Because "not being afraid" isn't about willing myself to get over my hangups or willing myself to go do something that would normally scare me silly.  I'm not saying there's anything wrong with taking risks, but risks should only be taken wisely.

And I'm not exactly talking about worldly wisdom.

Because the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom.  And I'm still learning how to be afraid, but I figure the best way to be afraid is to fear God above anything else.  Not in a way that we tremble before Him in constant trepidation--though we should.  We absolutely should.

Because of who God is, we should tremble on our faces in utter terror.

But because of who God is, we don't have to.

Because fear has to do with punishment, but we're being perfected in love.

But when we fear God, we're accepting all He is.  We're accepting all He's done for us.  We're accepting that He is stronger than anything else that we could possibly fear.  So what, then, is left to fear?  Nothing, really.

But our minds don't fully grasp that, and, well, how could they?

So we still fear.

But He has left us His Word, and He has left us His Spirit.  He didn't just tell us "be strong and courageous" and"do not be afraid," He tells us now.  He tells us now because He is with us now.

So when I stare up at the ceiling, facing the unknown, I'm not facing it alone.

And I figure the only way to "be strong and courageous" is if we let Him be strong and courageous through us.

In the big things, in the little things, my fear is going to be real.  My anxiety is going to be real.  And maybe I'd like it if I could be that fearless person that everyone thinks I should be, but I'm not.  I can't be.  At the end of the day, all I can be is His.  That's enough.

One of my favorite musicians, Mitch McVicker, put out a song on his last CD, Underneath, entitled "Danger."  I'm posting it below, because it's all kinds of amazing.

If you're afraid, don't kid yourself.  Nothing is really gained by that.  But in your fear, don't forget that He's here, and He's patiently reminding you not to be afraid.

"Show me Your Love is more than what's dangerous.
Just let me know You're here,
And I'll be brave.
I swear."

The Things I Won't Let Anyone Steal

"Star Trek V: The Final Frontier" is arguably the worst Star Trek film ever. But what can you expect when William Shatner writes, directs, and portrays a character who boldly goes on a mission to defeat "God"? It really is sad, especially after the epic brilliance of "Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home," in which Leonard Nimoy writes, directs, and portrays a character who knocks out a rude punk bus passenger, masters the use of colorful metaphors, saves the whales AND humanity, and also looks pretty smashing walking the mid-1980s San Francisco streets in a bathrobe. But I digress....

"Star Trek V" was a stinker, but there's a scene in it that I kind of like. In case you haven't seen the flick (you're not missing much), here's some background:

Sybok, Spock's long, lost half-brother has hijacked the Enterprise. He's a Vulcan, but has renounced the logical ways of his people and embraced emotion. His big thing is "sharing pain." He does some kind of psychic Vulcan mind trick to make people relive their most painful experiences, and he pretty much brainwashes people into following his "pain sharing" cult. And then they all go frolic off into the unknown to meet God...but not really. It's actually some kind of alien thing that was using Sybok. Or something. I think.

Honestly, I don't really have a clue what was going on in that movie. And I don't know if Shatner did either. I think Shatner just wanted to beat God. Because he's the Shatner.

But, yeah, Shatner did have a pretty good line in the movie. Sybok had gotten to Bones and Spock, making them "share their pain." But when it was Shatner's...uh...Captain Kirk's turn, he said something deep and brilliant. Because the Shatner wanted him to:

(remember to say it in a Shatner voice)

"You know that pain and guilt can't be taken away with a wave of a magic wand. They're the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don't want my pain taken away! I need my pain!"

Now, I have never met an emotional Vulcan brainwasher with delusions of finding God on a distant planet, but I've met a lot of people who remind me of Sybok. Like Sybok, they think they're doing good things. They think they're helping. But, in an unusual sense of the phrase, they are "identity thieves."

These are good people (as good as any of us can be) with good intentions. They aren't hacking passwords or stealing credit card numbers or illegally obtaining social security numbers.

They are just guilty of getting all up in people's KoolAid without even knowing the flavor.

And I really think these kinds of "identity thieves" are well-intentioned. They meddle because they genuinely care. And that should be acknowledged and even appreciated, but it can't be an excuse for someone to "fix" a friend or his/her problems.

I'm not talking about burden-bearing. Scripture is clear that we are to care about one another and take care of one another. But it's one thing to come alongside someone, listen, and pray, and it's another thing to try to make another person's problems disappear. Especially when one doesn't really know all the details.

And, to make this personal, I've had a lot of people try to fix me without really ever listening to me. So they don't really even know or understand what it is they're trying to fix. And if they did, they would probably realize that it can't be fixed, and doesn't really need to be fixed even if it could be.

I'm an anxious, awkward person. No really. I mean, hello! I started this blog post a with a Star Trek reference. I'm awkward, okay.

Back in middle school, high school, even early college, I would have agreed with anyone who said that I needed to change. I would have agreed that my anxiety in social/unfamiliar situations was the result of me letting fear overcome my faith, of sin. I know I would have agreed with anyone who said that, because I DID agree with people who said that.

But as I've gotten older and slightly more comfortable in my skin, I've come to the pretty clear conclusion that I will NEVER stop being awkward. I'll ALWAYS be uncomfortable, and even to some degree, suppressed in unfamiliar situations.

It's not sinfulness to be socially awkward. And while it's not always desirable, it's part of who I am. It's something about me that is unique and even beautiful. Sometimes it makes life harder, but life isn't supposed to be easy. And if someone tries to tell me, usually in a misguided attempt at encouragement, that I'm not awkward, I will fiercely defend my awkwardness. I won't let people try to steal that.

And I know that seems odd to some people, but I learned a long time ago that I am not a strong person. I don't buy into the "believe in yourself" junk that after school specials tried to feed me for most of my childhood. It sounds so good, and maybe if I wasn't so awkward, I might have less trouble believing it.

But God has made me, and I believe God wants me to be awkward. I believe God wants me to be weak. I believe God wants me to believe in Him and not in myself. I believe God has purposes for my anxiety, for my social awkwardness, and I won't let anyone try to steal those things away from me.

And another thing I won't let people steal is my pain. I'll admit, compared to a lot of people, my life's pain is pretty minimal. But to make a long story short and to not go into details that involve others who might not want their story shared, just know that I got my heart broken. It was a little over 8 years ago. And it involved a lot of other painful details that pretty much make it the saddest part of my life.

But the thing is, it was also the most beautiful part my life.

And I don't share that story much because, well it was a long time ago. People never did like to hear me moan on and on about it. Plus, I've healed enough to where I don't need to talk about it much.

But a few years ago, when the wound was fresher, I did need to talk about it. But there were precious few who would listen, really, really listen.

Most of what I got from people was about a minute of half-hearted listening followed by a five minute sermon about why I should move on and how I deserved "God's best" and about how sinful it was to look in the past and rob myself of future joy.

People, for the most part, wanted to fix me instead of really listening to me. And let me tell you, that is one if the most frustrating things in the world. And it hurts me to see it happen to other people, to see well-meaning "identity thieves" trying to "pain share" without really investing anything more than their uninformed, misguided opinion.

Because sometimes "God's best" doesn't look like what we think it should look like. And sometimes God allows or hearts to be broken because that's part of who He wants us to be. And if anyone, however well-meaning, tries to steal away my heartbroken, rejected identity, I will fiercely defend it.

And that might be hard for some to understand. And quite frankly, I don't care whether people understand or not. Understanding isn't as important as respect.

If I, or someone else, was doing something destructive or not following God, then yes, by all means there should be some intervention. That's not meddling; that's biblical brotherly love.

But here's the thing. The pain I have from being rejected is part of who I am, but it doesn't keep me from reaching out and risking to love others. My anxiety and awkwardness don't keep me from stepping out in faith and trying new things. Nothing that the world deems negative is anything that holds me back.

Fear and faith are going to be a constant struggle. They just are. The pain of rejection is always going to haunt me, threatening to make me shy away from reaching it to others. It just is.

But my weaknesses are not as the world sees them, and maybe other people's weaknesses aren't as you see them.

And what's more is that there is mercy in the struggle.

I serve the God who uses the weak to shame the strong, the foolish to shame the wise, and those that aren't to shame the things that are. 

It's actually a good thing that I am weak, and I WILL boast I'm my weaknesses. For when I am weak, He is strong.

And no one can steal that away.