Posts Tagged: fear

“Of Locked Doors and Peace Missions”

DTEB, “Of Locked Doors and Peace Missions”

“Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” (John 20:21)

My “3-Minute Retreat” from Loyola Press today was a meditation on John 20:21.  This verse is embedded in an incident recorded in John’s Gospel.  Just after Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples were still terrified.  They were huddled together in an upper room of a house, with the door locked because of fear.

I can identify with that.  You see, I have lots of locked doors behind which I hide.  Some are locked from the outside—or, at least, that is what I tell myself.  Other doors, I myself have locked.  Sometimes, I pretend that I can even lock God out of my life.  However, “pretend” is the operative word in the preceding sentence.

Or is “pretend” the operative word?  Maybe “God” is the operative word.

Yes, I think that’s it!

As the retreat master pointed out, in the verses just before John 20:21, we are told that the disciples were in the upper room with the door locked (vs. 19).  However, it would seem that the risen Jesus is not terribly impressed with locked doors.  He simply dematerialized on one side of the door, and rematerialized on the other.  Apparently, if this is the least desire for faith, Jesus will enter.  The desire, and the love and desperation that provoke that desire, are the only key that Jesus needs to enter our lives.

Vs. 20 tells of the joy of the disciples when Jesus showed them his hands and side.  I can hear them saying to themselves and to one another, “Yep!  That’s Jesus alright!”

What I need is a John 20:20 vision of a LORD who suffered for my sins and for the sins of the whole world, but who is not intimidated by my locked doors, or by anyone’s locked doors.

But this story from John is not simply about Jesus overcoming my fear and locked doors.  It is about sending me out to the world on a peace mission.  I am called to proclaim peace to everyone else.  In this same story, we are told that peace is a matter of knowing that our sins are forgiven.  And we are given the Holy Spirit to make our calling effective.

Make no mistake about it.  Jesus has not sent his disciples to a serene mountain retreat.  No.  Jesus sends us into a battle.  The world is a war zone.  Our wars, both individual and collective ones, are the bitter fruit of our fears.

I suspect that we would all go back to hiding behind locked doors, if it were not for two things.

First, Jesus comes to us through our locked doors.  After a while, perhaps we begin to say to ourselves, “Oh, what’s the use?  He is going to show up anyway.  Why not just throw the doors wide open?”

Second, we eventually realize that being locked in a room, even if it is locked from the inside, isn’t all that much of an adventure.  And Christ’s peace mission is nothing, if not an adventure.

Are you up for an adventure?

“DON’T TRY TO CATCH THE GERBIL!”

Melody Beattie tells a wonderful story in her book The Language of Letting Go.

Her son brought home a gerbil to live with them.  Sometime later, the gerbil escaped and eluded capture for the next six months.  Melody and her son would catch sight of the gerbil, and would scream, “Catch him!”  However, the gerbil was still on the lam.

Finally, she decided to give up.  If the gerbil wanted to live a reclusive life, let him!

Shortly after deciding to let go of her attempts to catch the critter, he stopped beside her chair one day.  She very gently stooped down, scooped up the gerbil, and put him back in his cage.

She concluded, “Detachment works.”

Yes, it does!  It works for catching runaway gerbils—when they are ready to be caught.

There are times when I think that I am the gerbil.  I am afraid to be caught, not realizing that what I call “being caught” might actually be a better version of freedom than my own furtive hiding and eating crumbs off the floor.

But I want to take this in another direction: Fear is why we run and why we hide.  Fear is also why we want desperately to catch and cage certain memories, certain feelings, certain relationships.

Perhaps, in a sense, fear is the gerbil.  Maybe we—maybe I—try too hard to track down, corner, and cage our fears.  Maybe we should just let them run wild for a while, until we become more accepting our fears, and they become more accepting of us.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt famously said that “We have nothing to fear, but fear itself.”  Maybe we don’t even need to fear our fears.

Much of the evil I’ve done in my life, evil to myself, others, and ultimately to God, has been primarily caused by my fears and my desire to control them.  I’ve wanted desperately to detach from my fears, when maybe what I have really needed to detach from was my desire to catch and cage my fears.

My new life-motto is “DON’T TRY TO CATCH THE GERBIL!

“ON BEING ASKED TO TEACH SOME CLASSES AND BEING IN OVER MY HEAD”

Have you ever felt—at the same time—great joy and great fear?  If so, you will understand the following e mail that I just sent to my twelve-step sponsor.  It consists of a report (“No violations,” in this case) and my affirmation for the day (in bold print).

“Dear Bob,

No violations.

Today, by God’s grace and with God’s help, I am consistency in doing triage and doing what I can do, rather than the perfect stuff that I wish I could do.

The affirmation requires a bit of unpacking, I think.

This past Friday, I got an e mail from the dean at Cincinnati Christian, asking me if I would be interested in teaching some classes.  They involved helping students (master level and perhaps also undergrad) to understand a bit about Hebrew and Greek by means of software.  Of course, I was tremendously thrilled with this, and said of course.

I met with the dean yesterday, and while I am still thrilled, there are some problems, none of which are unsolvable.  However, in the interest of getting current (as well as in the interest of unpacking the affirmation), I will list them.  Then, I will solve them as best I can, one at a time.

  1.  The undergrad course begins on August 27 of this year!
  2.  I am using Accordance software applications, rather than BibleWorks.  I am fairly used to BibleWorks, but not Accordance.  However, I have downloaded Accordance onto my computer already, and am beginning the learn it.
  3.  There is a very rough draft a syllabus, but I’m going have to develop my own in a hurry.
  4. I have not read the only book that is required for the course.
  5. I’m scared.

This is the sort of class that I have dreamed about teaching.  I can do this, and do it well.  However, I need to be consistency—not just consistent, but consistency!

However, consistency is not perfection, and I need to do a good job of triage on what I can do in the length of time I have to do it, with my current understanding of the Bible and technology, and with the students I have.

Perhaps the fifth thing that I listed above is the most important: I’m scared.  I plan to let fear drive me in a good direction and at an appropriate pace, but only God is capable of leading me to be a really good instructor.  That is because God Himself is the most “teacherly” of teachers.”

(You might also want to read another post I wrote, “DTEB, “IN OVER MY HEAD”.  It would appear that I feel overwhelmed quite a bit of the time!)

 

 

 

“AFRAID THAT I’LL MISS OUT”

Snickers candy bars are calling me.

My wife and I are having a nice getaway at a B & B, and there are all kinds of snack foods, available for free—including Snickers candy bars, which I love.

Eating a bunch of candy and other junk food would be easy and fun, but I am trying to cut back on my consumption of calories and cholesterol.

Perhaps I need to ask myself a question.  It may seem a bit strange, but let me come at this in a roundabout manner.

When I am angry, I have learned to ask a simple question: What am I really afraid of here?

Why do I ask about fear when I’m feeling angry?  Because I’ve noticed that my fear often disguises itself as anger.  Especially for men, anger is preferable to fear—or so we think.

But then there are also fears that can masquerade as desires.  Perhaps the same question that I ask when I feel angry should be asked when I feel desire: What am I really afraid of here?

Since I was a boy, I’ve loved sweets.  When they were available, I would gobble them up as fast as I could.  You may say, “Well, little boys are like that.”

Perhaps.  But I’m an adult now, and I still tend to do that.  One of my wife’s favorite questions to ask me is “What happened to the ______________?”  (The blank could be ice cream or pie or any other sweet.)  Like God, she already knows the answer before she asks the question.

So, what am I afraid of that tends to drive me to eat the wrong stuff, to eat too much, to eat too fast?

One way to answer the question is to say that I am afraid that I will miss out on something good.  I have a zest for life.  That is good.  But a zest for life is one thing, a lust for life is another.  Of course I know, in my heart of hearts, that too much of something good ain’t good.  Still, there it is.

What would happen if I told myself another story?  What if I told myself that less is more, that deferred gratification is so much more pleasurable than immediate gratification is?  Perhaps I wouldn’t even need to believe this truth at first.  Perhaps I could just keep telling myself this, not because I believe it, but because it is the truth.

Meanwhile, the Snickers bars are still calling, but their voice is a bit fainter.  Maybe later!

“No Worries! The God Who Is Both Leader and Companion!”

Most of us are afraid of the future, to a greater or lesser extent.  Some of us are so prone to fear that we even fear the past.  (We don’t usually think of fearing the past, but that is only because we call our fear of the past “regret.”)  And, frankly, the present can also be pretty intimidating.

That doesn’t leave a lot of time to not be afraid, does it?

There is a sense in which every day is terra incognito.  A saying (attributed to various people) goes something like this: “Most things are hard to predict—especially things in the future.”  That lack of knowing what will in happen in any given day is pretty intimidating.

Humankind has struggled with such fears for a very long time.  It may be more intense these days, but I doubt it.  Times change, but our fear of the changing times does not.

Certainly, this was a struggle throughout the ancient Near East.  The Bible has a lot of “fear nots,” which suggests that there was a lot of fear coursing through the veins of ancient Israel.

The book of Deuteronomy is attributed to Moses, and is his last will and testament.  He is speaking to the nation of Israel which is just about to enter the Promised Land.  Moses repeatedly tells the people that he will not be going in.  The land and the future are terra incognito.  However, Moses assures them that God will go ahead of them, and that they don’t need to be afraid.

“Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.” (Deuteronomy 31:8, New Living Translation)

I looked at the Hebrew for this verse.  It is interesting that the personal pronoun “he” is used a couple of times, even though it is not, strictly speaking, necessary.  Apparently, Moses wanted to be very emphatic in pointing out that God Himself would go ahead of the people.

But this verse tells Israel that God will not only go ahead of them.  God will also go with them.

It’s a wonderful picture: the God who goes before us and who goes with us.  God goes before in order to lead the way, but God also keeps us company, as we go.

I have to say, in all honesty, I have a difficult time believing that most of the time.  However, when I do believe it, I can face the unknown territory of the past, the present, and the future a lot more calmly.

 

“Warning! Cautionpassenger Approaching!”

I receive a wonderful word-of-the-day each weekday from the site https://wordsmith.org/awad/index.html.  (You can and should sign up for this free daily e mail as well.)

This week’s words are “tosspot words”.  Tosspot words, according to Anu Garg, are compound words made up of a verb (which occurs first) and a noun.  The noun must be the object of the verb.  (There are other definitions of the word “tosspot.”  These include a person who drinks too much, or anyone who does anything objectionable.  It is one of those wonderful British all-purpose insults.)

Today’s word was “cutpurse,” which in an old word which means the same thing as “pickpocket.”

Anu told a wonderful story of going home to India as a university student.  He was on a train.  Several men gone on the train at a station.  One of them warned young Anu that he needed to be very careful.  There were a lot of pickpockets around.  Anu patted his billfold, which was still there.  When he got off the train, it wasn’t.  Apparently, the man who had warned him about pickpockets was the pickpocket—or cutpurse, if you will.

Anu came up with a wonderful tosspot word for the man who had warned him and lightened his load: “Mr. Cautionpassenger.”

This set me to thinking, not so much about words, as about reality.  It may be that the people who are warning us are the real danger.  Often people who are wanting to warn us about things may be the very perpetrators of the thing about which they are warning us.  (The Apostle Paul warned us of the same thing.  You may read Romans 2:1ff. for further details.)

Watch out for those who warn you to be careful about your investments.  They may be about to sell you fraudulent stocks.

Watch out for those who warn you about liars.  They are probably lying to you.

Watch out for those who warn you about sexual misconduct.  They are probably on the make.

Be ware of people who warn you about people who warn you about people.

Be ware of all “cautionpassengers.”

We seem to live in a time when everyone is warning everyone about everyone.  The liberals warn us of the conservatives, and conservatives warn us of the liberals.  The Republicans warn us about the Democrats, and the Democrats do the same concerning the Republicans.  Those who like to think of themselves as “independents” may be the biggest cautionpassengers of all, since they warn us of everyone.

I think that the real issue underneath the issues is fear of our own fear.  However, those who encourage us to fear others, no matter who the “others” are, may be the real danger.

This danger is two-fold.  On the one hand, we ourselves are easily manipulated by fear.  On the other hand, we try to manipulate others with fear.  We are all, at least in some measure, “cautionpassengers.”  And, of course, this blog is a warning against all who warn you of things.  Thus, my posting of this both illustrates and violates the very thing I am warning you about.

If we cultivated within our own selves deep integrity, we would not be as prone to manipulate others by their own fears.  We might also be less prone to allow cautionpassengers to manipulate us with our own fears.

“Concerning Driving with the Brake On”

The other morning was very cold, and some of the side streets were pretty icy.  So, it was a bad day to have car trouble.  But I did have trouble very briefly.  I thought things were going to be serious, but fortunately they weren’t.

When I was leaving my 12-step meeting, I pulled out on the street, even though there was a car coming.  However, the car was going slowly and was pretty far away, so I figured I had plenty of time.  Silly me!

Suddenly, the engine was running very sluggishly, so I pushed harder on the accelerator.  The engine pulled down even more.  I took the car out of gear, thinking that I had it in a higher gear.  I made sure it was in drive, and stepped on the pedal.

Nothing!  It slowed down even more.  The other car (you remember: the one that had been going slowly and was quite a ways away?) was a lot closer now, and seemed to be picking up speed.

And finally, just in time, I figured out what the problem was: It was cold and I was cold and I was so bundled up I could hardly feel anything.  This meant that I was unwittingly stepping on the brake, not the accelerator.

This is, in some measure, the story of my life: driving with my foot on the brake.  And the brake is also called “fear.”  I have lived too much of life in a fear-based manner.  As with my near wreck, driving with the brake on is not necessarily a safe thing to do.

Now, don’t misunderstand: Fear can be a good thing.  It all depends on what or who I’m afraid of, and how I respond to that fear.  Fearing to do evil is a good thing.  Fearing to take stupid, unnecessary risks is another good form of fear.  Fearing God (in the sense of reverencing God and obeying God) is good.

Fearing anything else is like driving with the brake on.  It is not simply that most fear does not help.  Most fear is positively dangerous!

“Fear vs. Faith”

Perhaps I’m just being lazy today, or perhaps I’m being wise.  Maybe I’m being both.  In any case, I just read this, and thought it was so good that I would pass it along.

I don’t think that Jon Gordon is a Christ-follower, but he is most certainly a helpful writer.  I found his words so true and calming that I decided to simply send you a link to his free (yes, it really is free!) weekly newsletter.  You can, of course, subscribe to it yourself, and receive it in your e mail weekly.

Here is the link: www.jongordon.com/newsletter.html, accessed 11-14-2016.

DTEB

Breaking on Through to the Other Side

I was reading 1 Chronicles 11:15-19 (//2 Samuel 23:13-17) just now.  What degree of loyalty David commanded—or, better, inspired!  Three men break through the Philistine garrison, just because David expresses a longing for the water from the well in Bethlehem!  No doubt, they had to fight their way in, and then fight their way out.  And while they were at the well, one man drew the water, while the other two kept the Philistines at bay.

I can picture the scene: The land crawling with Philistines.  They even have a garrison in Bethlehem. Were they hoping that they may catch David trying to enter his hometown?  Was Bethlehem strategically important to the Philistines?

In any case, David was remembering . . . remembering when he was a boy . . . remembering coming in from the fields, worn out and thirsty . . . remembering how good the well water tasted after a long, dusty day chasing sheep.

He had thought that he had problems then.  Yeah!  His dad was demanding.  He was always getting into fights with his brothers.  (They always won.)

He had thought he had problems then.  He had thought . . . .  But now, he was between Saul and the Philistines.  He was a man on the run.  If only he could go back. If only life could be simple again.  If only . . .  If only . . .

He thought how nice it would be to taste water from the well in Bethlehem.  He didn’t realize that he had spoken his thought.  He didn’t think anyone was even listening.  He didn’t see three of his men quietly make eye contact, and just as quietly nod.  They gathered their weapons, tightened their belts and went out into the darkness.

Two of the Philistine guards died before they even realized they were under attack.  A few others resisted, calling for help.  However, the main body of the garrison were asleep, and when they heard that there was some minor fracas at the gate near the well, they didn’t think much about it.  Clearly, there was no major assault from the Israelites.  Of course, no one could believe that the Israelites were going to send a raiding party of three men against the Philistine position in Bethlehem.

It was such a stupid thing for the three to do!  So stupid!  Two of them held the Philistines at bay, while one of them calmly lowered the jug into the well, and just as calmly poured it into their water skin.  Then, they fought their way back out.  And now, some of the Philistines who had gathered around were laughing.  The Israelites had raided, for whatWater!  How dumb can you be!

“Are you Israelite dogs running low on water, as well as food?” one of the Philistine soldiers shouted with a sneer.

“No,” shouted one of the three.  “Our commander wanted a drink from the well, and we figured that with only a few dozen of you sissies guarding it, it wouldn’t be too difficult.  We’ll come for the whole well soon!  Have a nice evening!”

And with that, they vanished into the night.

. . .

“What is this?” asked David with a laugh.  “You three have been holding out on the wine.  You shall be flogged for this!”

“Oh, no, not wine—something much better: water from the well in Bethlehem!  Drink and be whole again, beyond confusion!”

David looked at the water jug, which a grimy, bloody hand held out to him.  He looked into the faces of the three.

“You could have been killed.  It was foolish—brave, but foolish.  What were you thinking!  Do you think that I can afford to lose men like you?!”

“We were not thinking anything,” said one.  “We were obeying your desire.”

And now, there is this Greater Son of David, whom I say I serve.  He does not long for a drink from any well, but he does long to give the water of life to those who desperately need it.  And who doesn’t need it?

What have I done to break through to give that water to anyone?  Less than nothing.  My actions have caused some people to doubt that such water even exists.  Indeed, I’ve poisoned the well.

No!  No amount of human sin can poison this well.  The poison itself is neutralized by this lively water.

I’ve been afraid, afraid of the Philistines, afraid of my own self, afraid of my own shadow.  I also need this water.  This well exists for me, too.  And so, old man that I am, sinner that I am, I will gather my weapons, cut through the fear, reach the well, drink and be well, offer this water to others.  Along with a few friends, I will bring this water from the One, the Son of David, to the many.

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