Cracking the “Safe” to Embracing Fear... and Pork Products

I will need a passport for my trip to New Zealand this summer, so last night I pulled out our fireproof safe, opened it up, and looked inside. Imagine my surprise when I discovered all of our valuable papers – damp and covered in mildew. As I stared down at the disaster inside our “safe” and listened to my husband explain the laws of science that must have worked together to make this happen (something about concrete, temperature extremes, and condensation), I realized I was looking at metaphorical answers to my recent questions… right there in the middle of the mess.

  

Fear has been in the forefront of my mind for the past few weeks. I started thinking about it on the evening of January 1st, as I was about to select the Facebook command, “Post,” on my computer. Once I pushed that button, my commitment to share my journey of words and vulnerability would be released to anyone who cared to come along for the ride. Fear caused me to hesitate for a heart-racing minute before sending my words into blogging cyberspace. In those sixty seconds, questions raced through my mind. “Do I really want to do this? Will I be judged? Wouldn’t it be safer to journey alone?” I took a deep breath, hit “Post,” and moved forward with my questions unanswered… until last night… as I stood staring at our valuables damaged by water in a fireproof safe.

In that moment, I understood that hiding in fear distorts truth, and perceptions of  “safe” can be deceiving. I also realized that fear itself is not our enemy. We are actually wired to listen and respond to fear’s warning of legitimate threats. My baby granddaughter understands this. Every time she goes near our stove, she says, “Hot, Grandy, hot! No! No!” Fear whispers in her ear, she heeds the warning and doesn't get burned. Fear serves to remind us to proceed with caution and/or stop, and to check in with trusted resources in times of uncertainty as to avoid the added danger of lies that hide in isolation.

It is our response to fear that becomes the problem. I should know. I was once the ambassador of poor responses. When fear whispered in my ear, I went directly from “caution” to “panic,” stamping a worst-case scenario of “FAIL” across my expectations. It is in the land of responses that lies are born. For example, when I got married I didn’t know how to cook. Fear gently whispered a cautionary, “O.k. You don’t know much about cooking, including how to operate an electric stove. You might need some help with this.” My response then went something like, “You are right, fear! I don’t know what to do! This is embarrassing! I’m not going to tell anyone that I don’t know how to operate an electric stove or boil water. I don’t even know where to start when it comes to grocery shopping. I’m a failure!”

Instead of taking fear’s advice to ask for help, I spent years isolated in deception agonizing over my “inability” to create menus that made sense, choose appropriate groceries at the store, or cook good meals. Once, I accidentally purchased a pork roast during my trip to the grocery store and then burst into tears when I got home because I didn’t know what to do with it. From that day on, my husband would joke about my “fear of pork products” in an attempt to help me let go of the ridiculousness of my reactions.

I am happy to report that, years later, I found freedom from my unhealthy pattern of irrational responses to fear… and pork products. However, it wasn’t until last night that I experienced the paradigm shift of actually embracing fear. I'm no longer content to live behind a facade of “safe,” so I’m cracking my life open and turning an ear to the elements– ready to listen, reflect, and respond...

So, what are my answers to fear’s questions of caution, asked on January 1st?

Question: Do I really want to do this?

Answer: Yes!

Question: Will I be judged?

Answer: Most likely, but it doesn’t matter.

Question: Wouldn’t it be “safer” to journey alone?

Answer: Absolutely not.

When I am afraid, I will put my trust in You.   (Psalm 56:3)