The Truth About Fear.

If I had to put a name to the thing that's dogged my heels my whole life, I'm realizing I would have to call it fear.

Fear.

It's a liar and a thief and it will destroy us if we feed it long enough. Like a weed, it will begin to choke out all the things we long to grow in our lives and in our souls.

But fear has never been my Savior- He is. Fear is not my Abba or my ever-present help: He is.

Maybe I was raised by fear. Maybe its words were the ones I replayed as I lay in my bed at night and maybe its rules were the ones I gladly followed.

But fear is a terrible, terrible master (and an even worse father). It's a thief (of joy), a liar, a destroyer It lies and makes you believe the worst is lurking up ahead for you. It wants to keep you small and unsure and tight in its unholy embrace. It does not free us or heal us and it cannot love us.

When has fear ever saved? When has fear ever given us all we long for? When has it ever encouraged us to dream, to be bold, to live freely? It cannot. Because it is not God.

But I can tell you I've made it a god. That whole don't-make-an-idol-in-your-own-image-thing? What is fear but a bundle of my own worst hangups and impulses- and I'm holding that up like it's something to follow (worth following)? Exalting it to the status of being who I consult to make decisions and lead me toward becoming who I long to be. I've been following its voice, its rules, its guiding instead of the LORD's. And it has led me nowhere worthwhile and given NO life. [There is a difference between fear and wisdom.] It has given no life because it cannot. Yet I hold it up like it is wisdom, like it is worthy of my following and my devotion. Like it will lead me where I want to go, fulfill me in ways that are real and lasting and build the kind of life I long for. When in reality, fear can only steal and lie and destroy- because it is from the Enemy of our souls.

So I will listen to his voice no more. It won't be easy but my God is for me and so I can. And it will be worth it because I was made for more than fear's embrace. I was made for the arms of God.

"And when He answers.."

I don't know how to say this except to say it straight: I am deeply afraid to ask.

It came to light on Wednesday. I met this lady- this wonderful woman who knows and loves Jesus so deeply. Who was saturated with the Holy Spirit to the point that to meet her is to know that He is the center of her world. And joy practically oozed out of her pores. It sounds cheesy to say but I can promise it didn't feel cheesy. It was honest and real and hard fought and hard won, through stories and journeys that aren't mine to share in this space.

I mostly sat and listened to she and my friend (who is the reason we met) catch up and share. When I talked, I mostly asked her questions about herself or added to my friend's observations.

And then she talked about doing what she was made for, both the struggle to accept it and to feel like she was enough for it....and the joy in it now. 

And I felt my heart groan under the weight of how much I longed to be her. 

Not because I want her story, but because I ache to know what I was made for. It makes my eyes fill with tears just to type those words. 

I'll admit there is a piece of me that believes that knowing that will make all paths straight and smooth out the way before me. And that's a lie. And it's idolatry. Because it's trusting and putting my hope in the future, not in the God who is sovereign over it and over me. And that's something I have struggled with my whole life. 

But back to Wednesday. My heavy heart led me to break the silence with ten little words:

"I just wish I knew what I was made for."

The conversation moved on, with me downplaying that desire as I'm prone to do. But later, as we prepared to leave, she moved closer to where we sat on the couch and said:

"You're applying to all kinds of things, aren't you? Like throwing darts and just hoping that something will stick somewhere and that something will fall into your lap and that will be the right thing. And that's not what you were made for. He wants you to go get with Him. To ask Him what it is He wants you to do. And when He answers, you set your face like flint after that thing."

And those words brought me to tears and stifled sobs, because she was so terribly right, even to the point of using words I'm positive I have used myself over the last few months. And they've been swirling around my head on repeat since then. I don't remember if she ever called it fear, but I know she knew the truth: I'm terrified to ask Him. And as much as I love knowing the "why" behind almost everything in the universe, I don't really think it matters here. 

Because the problem here is not why I'm afraid to ask so much as it is that I don't trust His heart. I don't trust Him to answer. I fear if He does He might lead me into something that might take everything from me and still find me wanting, or something I would not understand, or something that I would hate. I'm absolutely petrified He will lead me to a place of failure. What if I can't hear Him? What if I get it wrong? What if there are walls I cannot move? What if I ask, really ask, and He doesn't answer? What then? How do you move on from that?

And even if I sit in counselor's offices or over cups of coffee with friends or in a pastor's office for hundreds of hours each, it won't heal me. Not alone. What I need is faith. And I can't produce faith on my own-faith is a gift. And it's one I'm longing for.