Fear: a rude and unwelcome stranger

Linking up with Velvet Ashes: The Grove today. This week's theme is "Admit."
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I've never considered myself fearless. As a child, I was actually afraid of a lot of things. Unfounded, really, but afraid nonetheless. Afraid of someone breaking into our house while we slept. Afraid of the dark. Afraid of losing a loved one to a car crash. Afraid of drowning. Afraid of animals in the woods. Afraid of swimming in natural bodies of water. While I've outgrown some of these, some still hang with me.

As an adult, anxiety, dread, a feeling of being ill at ease... I'm very familiar with these. A sense of being very vulnerable, uncomfortable (like traveling alone in my new home country... where I get far too much attention to make me feel relaxed). Shock and confusion. Yes, all of these I am intimately acquainted with.

But capital "F"-Fear? Bone-chilling, gripping fear. Fear that wrings the breath out of your lungs and makes you break out in a cold sweat? This is brand new to me. In 30+ years of my life, this new feeling is completely foreign... a rude and unwelcome stranger.

I've traveled on 4 continents. I've traveled and stayed alone in unfamiliar places, where I knew neither people nor the language. I've been in tense places with conflict brewing beneath the surface. I've even been in some unsafe situations over the years, sometimes without realizing it and other times being completely aware. I've been afraid, sure... but not like this. This... this is difficult to describe well.

Since losing our daughter, this capital "F"-Fear has snuck into my heart... taking up residence, like it owns the place. At first, I thought maybe this is a normal reaction to loss. Maybe it's simply part of the stages of grief and grief process... fearing you will lose someone else, reeling in the aftermath. After all, it was so unexpected. There was no warning. In less than 12 hours, she went from healthy and normal to gone, cold, still. Wrapped up and whisked away from me in a coffin, and then the ground... with a cruel finality, and capital "F"-Fear cackled and walked through the door and set down his bags, claiming this place as his own. Even in the NICU, I didn't notice him... because we didn't really think we would lose her, until suddenly she was already gone.

He was stealthy. Smooth. Silent. I was completely unaware of his presence, even as he was setting up house inside of me... in the shrouded corners, and shadowed places. Lurking. Leering.

Several weeks ago, my Love was meeting a friend in a multi-story business center. I got a text message a couple hours later asking me if I could call a number he sent me... as they were stuck in an elevator.  As I read the message, my blood turned to ice... freezing in my veins. Capital "F"-Fear slinked out of his hiding places and wrapped himself around my heart. My heart pounded in my ears and my head spun. I called the number... then another... then my sister in law to call and talk to them again more clearly in the local language...  then a friend to pray with me because I was struggling to breathe... my Love, calm and collected, was still texting back and forth, assuring me he was fine (Only a day or two later, did he admit that he, too, was really scared. Apparently, they had tried to resolve it themselves from inside, it was really hot and they weren't getting fresh air... until finally someone pried the doors open  slightly. But he didn't want me to worry.) My mind ran wild and free, capital "F"-Fear at the reins. I couldn't think, couldn't pray... I sobbed. I paced the floors of my house, and then I finally turned on worship music. But my heart wouldn't rest until I got the text he was out, and fine.

"F"-Fear has pranced and danced his way around other minor events recently, and yet I was still unwilling to admit his hold. I also hadn't taken the space/time to really pray through and process that this is not a healthy, normal part of grieving. Because absolutely nothing about capital "F"-Fear is healthy or "normal" for a child of the Eternal King. Period.

I was recently on a transcontinental flight, heading on a work trip. We hit some turbulence. I realize that's normal, with as many flights as I've taken in the last 12 years of my life, but this turbulence, in this season of life, put me over the edge. I broke out in a cold sweat. I felt the familiar gasping of the oxygen fleeing my lungs. Terror crept in, as my white knuckles gripped the handles of my seat. My seatmate across the empty chair between us was blissfully asleep... and through the fog, I realized /I/ was the one having an abnormal reaction. Numbly, I pawed through my bag and found my iPod and headphones, and slammed my fingers across the touchscreen to open my playlist of Scripture songs... I missed the headphone port, while trying to plug the earphones in. Finally... success... and my ears and mind flooded with His words of promise, spoken and sung directly into my ears... wrapping around my spirit. The tension eased. The jolting and dropping became gentle rocking and swaying... almost... relaxing, as Fear was forced to flee in the face of TRUTH and PRAISE.

And the Lord met me there -- gently, yet with loving rebuke. "Do you trust My love for you, daughter? Do you really trust My love for you?" You see, I no longer live in a world of "It happens to others, but it will never happen to me." How many of us no longer live there in that world of innocence and false security? Too many. You see, I do trust His love... but there is always another step further into His heart. Always a deeper level to move forward in this journey. There was a part of my heart that was shrinking back from more sacrifice. Yes, I trust You, but... what if You ask something else of me. What if that was only a practice run? What if it was simply a lesson for something even harder? I'm unwilling to ever go through that again. Again, He whispers, "Then you are not trusting My love for you will be enough, even if I ask you to sacrifice more... for My glory. You don't believe I will be there and carry you through? Perfect love casts out fear... will you choose to trust My love is perfect?" Nailed. Through the soul. I have joked with others that God just really ever gives me an out, even when I feel like I deserve it. I guess that's because we truly don't ever deserve an out, if we're honest.

When our daughter RAN into the arms of Jesus with rejoicing, and we were left behind in the aftermath of sorrow... I felt the darkness creeping in around us, almost like when you're about to blackout and your vision gets smaller and smaller, all the edges becoming dark. The next morning when I woke, I saw my Father reaching His hand down in the narrow circle of light I could still see through, "Will you still worship Me, child?" When I walked out into our living room, people had already gathered, sitting silent and somber on our couches and chairs... I didn't greet them even, in my rush to reach the speakers and plug in my iPod. I found the worship playlist I had compiled for my labor and delivery only 3 days prior... and suddenly the silent room was filled with praise music. From that moment, and in the coming weeks, worship and praise became my lifeline. My tether to my Sovereign, Loving Father, in the beating rain and relentless wind. He never let me go, and He used worship as the rope that bound us tightly.

There is a safe haven, a tower of refuge, in the place of worship. Prayer is powerful, but I am finding that worship is even more so. It takes me outside of myself, my needs, my wants... into the place of realignment and fully focused on God's face, God's heart. When I am in worship, I am... untouchable... everything else fades away. Fear is replaced by assurance. Capital "F"-fear is silenced, defeated. The enemy hates our prayers and seeks every hindrance and distraction to keep us from this place. But he CANNOT stay anywhere near us when we are given over to praise of our King. He MUST flee. And his hold is loosed. I find safety and security in a place of worship.

On the return transcontinental flight, we again hit turbulence... and I was ready. I stared capital "F"-Fear down, face to face. Standing on truth, resting in His perfect love, and armed with worship ready on my heart's tongue... capital "F"Fear was taken aback, caught unprepared. He wrapped a cloak of darkness around his shoulders and leered with unusual hesitancy, then I saw his ankles were shaking... despite the aura of authority he tried to present, there were visible cracks in his confidence. I smiled and looked over my shoulder, as my Father's LIGHT suddenly broke through and surrounded me. Turning my eyes back to capital "F"-Fear... he was nowhere to be found. He had fled, and all I could hear as evidence of his presence was a fading whimpering. He has been uprooted. Ousted. Evicted with no option to return.

This was not my battle. It was my King's all along. He was simply asking me to admit Fear's presence, admit my need for His power to bring victory, and admit my heart's need for Him to work a deeper trust in His heart.

My song this week is Laura Story's new single featuring Mac Powell, "Open Hands." I'm linking it here. How many of us can truly sing this song and MEAN it? Honestly? Not a single one of us, without the supernatural grace and love of God.