Life Action

In the face of fear, we want to keep moving. To slow down and listen to what it might be saying is counter-intuitive. But there is a logic—a language—to fear and anxiety just as there is to most emotions.

Listening to fear is like listening to background noise. At first you think there is nothing to hear, but then you notice the wind in the trees, the birds calling for a mate, cars passing by, a plane overhead, creaks in the floors, and the water heater kicking in—there is much more going on than we first noticed!

The same is true with fears. At first we might overlook the underlying message in our fears; but when we listen more carefully, we notice that they are speaking loudly about the things our hearts truly care about and love.

Here are two common themes:

"I am vulnerable."

We might not have Genghis Khan sweeping across the plains, prepared to destroy everything that moves, but life is dangerous no matter where we live. Even without a sworn enemy, the possibility of accidents gives us real reason to be afraid. Think of it this way: If we live long enough, something bad will certainly happen, and there is nothing we can do to keep it at bay.

This is where fear gets interesting. Danger points at the threatening world around us. Vulnerability points to us. It's about our lack of control.

Take someone who is accustomed to driving, and put him in the passenger seat. Watch his foot nearly do a Fred Flintstone as he puts all his weight on an imaginary brake. And hear his ongoing suggestions for the driver. That's a person who is feeling vulnerable—out of control, and thus afraid.

Listening to this sort of fear reminds us that we are creatures, dependent on God and others around us. We have only limited control of the situations we face, no matter how much we wish it were otherwise.

Here is where fear is a door to spiritual reality. It suggests that authentic humanness was never intended to be  autonomous and self-reliant. Humans are needy—dependent—by design. Will we abandon the myth of independence and seek God?

"I need (and might not get)."

There is a close connection between what we fear and what we think we need.

• If we need comfort, we fear physical pain.
• If we need approval, we fear criticism.
• If we need love, we fear rejection.
• If we need admiration for our attractiveness, we fear getting fat.

For example, money is believed to have unusual power to satisfy many of our needs, so it is a target for endless fears. Without money we feel vulnerable and powerless. With it we have confidence that we can get adequate medical treatment, love, respect, etc.

For decades my wife and I never locked our house. We never thought twice about burglaries because we owned nothing that valuable—nothing we really loved. But as we began to amass a few items that were important to me, my attitude changed. I've even considered purchasing a safe!

Listening to our fears about losing or missing out on the things we need can reveal what we trust. Trust reveals the center of our worlds. For example, when we have fears about our financial position, we might be revealing that we trust in money. What we are afraid of can reveal that something other than God has become enthroned in our hearts.

Are your fears telling you that you love anything more than God?

Where Is My Treasure?

If we know Christ and have affirmed our allegiance to him, worry is a sign that we are trying to have it both ways. We certainly don't want to renounce our allegiance to Jesus, but we want to protect what we feel is our own. We're not so sure the Lord can be trusted with some of these things, so we look for help elsewhere.

It's easy to tell ourselves that such worry is not a critical kingdom issue. After all, we are not avowed Satan worshipers. But the reality is that you can't have dual masters. Worry is misdirected love that should be confessed. It is making life about our needs, desires, and wants. It's time to choose sides.

Can't you just hear Jesus say, "How would you like a place where nothing rusted, nothing wore out, and investments were guaranteed?" (See Matt. 6:19-21.) We begin by turning away from loyalty to things that promise emptiness, and confessing how things and people have been our hope, security, and confidence.

Confession changes everything. When we confess to God that our worry is a sin against him, we turn away from the kingdom of earth and put ourselves in a position to see the attractiveness and worthiness of eternal things.

Adapted from Running Scared © 2007 by Edward T. Welch. Used by permission of New Growth Press. The editors highly recommend this book.