Dear Fear,
I feel like you’ve been a part of me forever. Even more than that, I feel like you’ve attached yourself to my family tree. You’re the moss that looks harmless but is slowly chocking us out generation by generation, preventing us from living life abundantly.
I run to you instead of God. I run to you in situations that make me uncomfortable or make me feel unworthy. I run to you instead of risking running into shame. Shame and I are old friends too, but you are easier to handle. Instead of shame tearing me up from the inside out, I would rather have you disengage my heart and tether me against the wall.
But my God said that he didn’t create me to be a wallflower. He created me to be a part of the most beautiful bouquet you can imagine, his Kingdom. I just have some pruning to do.
This is the time in my season that I pluck off all of the bad buds and fruit that come from you, to make room for the good.
It’s hard, because leaning against the wall was easy. It kept me safe and warm. It prevented embarrassment, but it also prevented joy and abundance. I think sometimes I might be tempted to run back to you from time to time. The world is a scary, beautiful place. I won’t be able to see the ends of it from the wall though.
Sometimes it is hard for me to recognize you. You trick my mind into thinking it was my idea to not “feel” like dancing in public with my friends. You trick me into not liking the things I’m bad at. You have me trained to keep my head down in big group settings. God is slowly revealing you in memories, showing your face to me in every situation. Honestly, you disgust me. You make me feel like I wasted my life. God gave it to me to live abundantly, and I just can’t do that with you.
Here’s your eviction notice. You can’t come back here. Your stuff and all the lies you tried to plant are at the curb. The locks are changed. We’re done here.
Fearlessly,
K
