Fear

Cowering In Fear Or Ready To Fight?

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

Yeah, I’ve been cowering in fear as mentioned here and here.

But we’re made to soar, our Heavenly Father, like the wind, buoying up our wings.

But I feel fearful again, this morning.

How do we keep Fear at bay, in its corner of the ring, instead of on top of me, rendering me immobile?

Learning about what we fear helps. I learned that alligators need water to survive and that annihilated my childhood fear of these animals living under my bed. (Don’t judge me). In the same way, in a future post, I will talk about how my raging Fear was soothed as I learned from scientists studying wildfire behavior.

Scientists have also learned* that if we exert some (even very minimal) level of control over stressful situations, our stress levels decrease dramatically. Translation: DOING something, even a very small thing about the stuff that bothers us makes us feel a WHOLE lot better. Fear stays on its own side of the wrestling ring for a while.

And so I got on my bike, put on my superwoman cape, delivered flyers, and our neighborhood became Firesmart.

But then as I watched the news one day, Fear grew and its shadow threatened to overwhelm me again.

No!

And so I act, again, I DO something to battle my Fear.

I write this post.

Talking about climate has been compared to having flatulence at a cocktail party.

And dwelling on Fear is only another way to drag more of us into the ring, with Fear immobilizing all of us.

NO!

What are you DOING to fight Fear?

Every action we take is food that we offer to our neighbors, strengthening them.

Let’s share our food together, feeding and encouraging one another.

What are you doing or is another doing that is food to strengthen you, to pick up your boxing gloves, and to meet with Fear head-on?

Let’s bandage each other’s wounds, offer each other a sip of water and a word of encouragement and then get back in the ring.

Because fighting is how we soar.

Here are a pair of boxing gloves.

Are you ready to put them on?

The counterintuitive, best things we can do to fight the weird weather that ramps up our fear will be discussed in future posts.

Blogpost Footnotes

*Lecture 14: How Your Brain Manages Stress by John J. Medina in Your Best Brain, from The Great Courses

Rejoice in Your Fear

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

The newspaper is like the genie in the bottle, a monster emerging from the words. It stares down at me, huge and menacing. My teeth quake as I glance at it, trembling. I am afraid.

I am left in the corner, quaking, the monster guarding me, bidding that I say right where I am, crouched in the corner. It is watching for when it is safe for me to come out.

But it never is. Another scare. Another news item. One crisis after another. I crouch and hide, obedient to my fear.

But when I attempt to rise on quaking legs, and when I stand, holding, as a crutch, the arm of the One standing next to me, I feel a bit stronger. But my head still spins.

Come, He seems to bid. Take just one step, my child. One step and then another. I focus on Him, who steadies me when I walk.

His face becomes a bit clearer. The arm that I rest on feels a bit more solid, and less a figment of my imagination.

And my fear, which once dominated me, returns to rest deep within the newspaper, where it belongs. It is always lurking inside there, and within the words of some others that I meet.

But I realize now that fear is too strong for me. I cannot tame it. But it can be supplanted by my intense, prolonged, focus on the One who is not afraid.

And then I walk. And then I run. And then I give a cup of water to the thirsty. And then I wash the smelly feet of the hurting stranger, the one who, also, has been terrorized into a shell of herself by her fear.

“Come,” I bid. “There is One who will help you to walk. Let’s take the first step, together, sister, brother. I will show you how to lean on His arm a bit more often, a bit more of your full body weight supported by Him the next time you fall. Don’t let go.”

And as we tread upon our fear, He is raising up a great army. He passes you the weapons that are needed for this great war: love, compassion, humility, dependence, servitude.

Only the weak are strong. And thus, my fear has strengthened me, as I have been pushed, ever more into the loving arms of My Father, who holds me as I cry. Let’s not miss the opportunity that our fear points us toward.

Don’t panic. I’m with you. The Message

Let’s rejoice in our fear because we have been pushed, more often and more deeply, into His arms of comfort. What are you afraid of, sister, brother? Come and be comforted in the arms of the greatest comforter, so that you too may be a comfort to others with the comfort you have received.

What is one step that the Father may want you to take today, to live out of love, and no longer out of fear? How can your fear strengthen you, as you remember that it is the weak that are actually strong?

A Gift We All Want – Freedom from Fear

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

The edge of the shadow creeps higher.

From the corner of my vision, I see it. It grows, curving and menacing as it climbs, encompassing my field of vision. It expands before my widening eyes.

I slouch, making myself smaller. Only my huge eyes can be seen now, staring at it, watching it grow.

Pop! It is gone! I sit up in wonder, turning round to see what has happened. You have flipped the light switch to “on”.

But fear, and the memory of it broods just under the surface as we speak. I am never very far away from it.

As a lake is half full of water, I am half full of fear, wherever I go. We speak of other things, above the water level of my fear, but the heavy lake of fear sways within.

It is just under the surface. Can you feel it?

Why no?

You flick on a flashlight, and shine it at my feet. The water level recedes to just below your light. I am walking on water now because your light has forced the fear, the water level, to recede from where it was just under my waist, to where it is now, just under my feet.

Wow! Thank you! I shout! I sing and dance, splash my feet in the puddle, the memory of my fear. I take your hands and ask you to dance with me, to splash with me. The lake of fear has become a puddle of fear that I now traipse in.

I need you with me, everywhere I go. And that light thing – that flashlight – can you bring that everywhere too?

You tell me you can’t stay with me and I throw myself prostrate, clinging to your feet, begging you not to leave me. I am horizontal in the puddle now, and fear surrounds me again, even with you here. Please don’t leave me!

I have to leave, you say, gazing with love into my eyes.

You turn around once, twice and are transformed into an eagle. You spring from the ground, eyes lifted, and soar. You circle me from the air, high up, watching me with the piercing vision of that majestic bird.

I can see you sometimes, though you are long way off. Your example encourages me to sit up, to wipe the tears from my eyes, and wait – what is this in my hand? Oh, you left me your flashlight!

I stand up, splashing the puddle with my boots, and switch the flashlight to “on” again. I whirl it round me. No monsters here- only the faint shadow of their movement at the edge of this beam of light.

I sit down to eat awhile, to refresh my spirit. I am on dry ground now, for the warmth of the light from my flashlight has evaporated any water. What was it that you told me again?

“I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.” The Message

I lift my gaze. Light from the arm holding my flashlight naturally lifts to follow my gaze. The light shines higher and I feel lighter, lighter.

No fear to hold me down.

I spin, once, twice and now I am free too, free to soar. I too have found my wings. I too am an eagle.

It was only fear that was holding me captive.

I left my flashlight on the ground for them.

I hope that they (you) find it soon.