I’ve never considered myself a fearful person. I’m not afraid
of germs—I don’t wash Isaiah’s paci when
it hits the floor, and I don’t ask my boys to wash their hands before dinner
(horrors!) I like turbulence on air plane rides (reminds me of a roller
coaster), don’t mind heights—I’ve jumped off a telephone pole and
climbed/rappelled in Garden of the Gods. I think spiders are interesting (used
to pull off the legs of Daddy Long Legs and watch the legless body jump), and I
allow my three boys to jump, hop, climb, and generally be a wee bit dangerous
when playing.
I’ll admit I’ve got a few “little” fears—the kind we all
joke about. I fear snakes, driving in bad weather, mosquitoes, super-hot
weather, and not being able to run someday.
And I don’t dream much, can count on one hand the number of
“nightmares” I’ve had—during college I used to dream I was running across
campus naked, and I’d wake up relieved, heart pounding. And, more recently, I
dreamed a disjointed nightmare that included every male who’s ever hurt me—my
harsh boss at Four Seasons Restaurant, former co-workers, an old boyfriend, my
Dad.
If I go a little deeper, I admit that, like most people in
this world, I’ve feared financial struggles, my kids getting sick or hurt, or
Jon (my hubby) dying in a car crash.
But, overall—me—I’m not a fearful person! At least compared
to “some people I know.”
Yet, Micah’s current battle with fear (see Spirit of Fear)
and a recent encounter with someone who knows a couple of my dysfunctional family
members, roused fears from the depths of my soul, fears I didn’t realize were
there.
And I realized, above all else, I fear what others can do
to me or say about me. I do not live: “in God I trust and am not afraid.
What can mere mortals do to me?” (Psalm 56:4 NIV).
Specifically, I’m afraid I will not know the security of genuine love, love
that seeks what is best for the other person. I’m afraid of my loveless
childhood repeating in the present—I’m afraid that my perspectives on life will
not believed or valued. I’m afraid that others, like my parents and siblings,
will “write me off” as a person not worth knowing.
So I asked myself: How does this fear affect my responses to
others?
And I realized: Whenever I meet people who act like my
parents—controlling, spiritually fake, lacking genuine care for others—I
withdraw emotionally, retreat behind the safety
of invisible walls.
And I realized: Even after all the heart-changing I’ve done,
I STILL fear what my dysfunctional family members will say about me. I fear my
family will subtly describe me to others as “unloving, controlling, arrogant,
etc.” through half-truths and blatant lies. And I fear that those who hear this
slander will believe it, blaming me for broken relationships, writing me off as
a person not worth knowing . . . . So, to protect myself, I either try too hard
to explain “my side of the story” or withdraw emotionally.
So I’ve asked myself: WHY do I fear these things? Because, if I really believe this truth:
“The Lord is
my light and my salvation —whom shall I fear? The
Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid? 2 When the wicked advance against me to devour[a] me, it is my enemies and my foes who will
stumble and fall. 3 Though an army
besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then I will be confident” (Psalm 27: 1-3)” —I
should not fear!
And I’ve come to understand: my fears
reveal my true allegiance, who I really love. I fear relational connections to
my family (or people like them) because I love the security of the approval of others, more than I love God. Ouch! I’ve come to understand that my responses to
fear, emotionally withdrawing and over-explaining, are a means of control, of
securing a “safe place” where I won’t be hurt again. Rather than trusting in God’s perfect love, a
love that “casts out fear” I trust Self, and I cannot love God when I’m
trusting Self.
It’s hard to admit these things—to face
the fact that I’m Fearful, not Fearless. But I see it now, the blistering-hot
truth.
And in this blistering truth I see God’s grace—the opportunity to face my Fear and counter it with Truth: “God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” ( 2 Timothy 1:7 NLT).
And in this blistering truth I see God’s grace—the opportunity to face my Fear and counter it with Truth: “God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” ( 2 Timothy 1:7 NLT).
So, I invite you to join me—to begin the battle to make these intellectual truths lived-out truths, to pursue delighting in God rather than the false security of human validation. And I’m not there yet—I’m not sure exactly how this process will play out, but the first step is before me—fervently sharing these things with God, relating to Him through prayer.
Below is an article from a site called Bible Café For Women. This article lists out 50 bible verses on fear that you may find helpful as you meditate and pray.
50 Scripture Verses on Fear
50 Scripture Verses on Fear
