Writing brings out the prideful side of me. My head says: You went to university to study English, so everything you write must be perfect. You have to prove your talent, or your audience will harshly judge you.
However, I’m learning that, in this world, there is always the possibility of someone not liking my writing—but God likes my writing. And He is enough. He actually encourages me to write more often.
So, today, I’m choosing to put pride aside and write to you freely. I hope that my thoughts are intelligible because I care about you. I care about whether this bit of writing benefits you because you took the time to read it.
With each passing day, I learn more from God’s love. I’m so thankful for the wonderful Teacher that He is. He loves me too much to leave me in my ignorance, and that immense love persuades Him to teach me especially those things that are the hardest.
He doesn’t give up when I fail to understand or complain that the lesson is too difficult.
In His patient love, He has devoted Himself these past ten months to ushering me out of the stronghold of fear. I believe that this is a process; I cannot say that I have reached completion.
However, I know a lot more now than I did ten months ago, and although space is limited, here are a few principal truths that have set me free:
Friend, it’s okay to be afraid sometimes. It’s natural; we’re human. At least once in our lives, we’re going to come across a scary situation. What matters is what we do with the fear.
Until just a few months ago, I spent my life feeling shame about the amount of fear I experience.
For example, in Albania, our ministry location was a farm/kids’ summer camp, complete with rock-climbing wall. On our first day, we practiced with our teammates putting on the harnesses and working with the ropes—two things we’d need to do later with the kids.
Now, I have never been a fan of rock climbing, and I was determined to keep my feet on the ground. However, one of my teammates needed to practice belaying. So, it was my turn to climb.
The ascent was much easier than expected, but when I had to straighten my legs out in front of me and rappel back down, I panicked.
I allowed myself to become paralyzed with fear and seriously considered just hanging out up there. I was afraid of falling—like the cliché “cat in a tree” situation.
Somehow, I got back down—it’s all a blur—but I remember feeling so ashamed when I collected myself. The chatter in my head was unforgiving. Kids do this, Whitney. Who are you kidding? You may have chosen to leave home for a year, but you’re still afraid to do the simplest things.
As with any time in my life where I’ve found myself crippled by fear, I thought about 1 John 4:18, which says, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”
Once again, I despaired. Once again, I thought that love would never truly dwell in my heart.
All my life, my response to fear was one of shame because I misunderstood what 1 John 4:18 was actually talking about. (Never interpret a verse without also considering the content surrounding it.)
I thought that the solution was to become numb to fear. If I didn’t feel it, I had conquered it.
That’s a lie, though. The Lord God did not create us to be numb; He created us with feelings. The solution to fear is not trying to become numb to it; the solution is acknowledging the fear and responding, instead of panicking.
In Zambia, God used my alumni squad leader, Christina, to teach me this.
It’s okay to be afraid, but when you are afraid, first try to identify the thing that you’re afraid of. When you have identified it, pray. Talk to the Lord about that fear. It seems so simple, but for me, it was revolutionary.
And as I have stepped into this practice, I have found something stunningly beautiful.
When we acknowledge the things we are afraid of, humbly bring them before the Lord, and let Him minister to our hearts, those fears are no longer our master.
You see, when we allow ourselves to panic, we get tunnel vision and can only see the fear. But, when we bring our fears to the Lord and talk about it, we have clearer vision. We can see past the fear—and see what’s truly important.
I believe Jesus is the best example of this.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, He knew that people were looking for Him in order to brutally murder Him. He was terrified, but instead of panicking, He prayed. And in talking to the Lord, He understood what must be done.
Though He was still probably terrified, something was much more important to Him—our salvation.
Responding to fear leaves room for us to be driven by love.
