fear

Paralyzing Fear

Laurie Russell — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 10:13:14 -0700

Do your fears ever overtake you - paralyzing you, either momentarily or long-term, to the point where you sit out on life?

Fear is a strong force that God may use to protect and guide us but it’s also a tool the enemy will use to keep us in stalemate preventing us from experiencing and trusting God.

A few weeks ago our daughter had her end-of-the-season soccer party at a new gym in our area. It’s in an old warehouse and high above our party was the ropes course with six platforms and in-between each is a variety of ropes and obstacles.

It looked awesome and the girls immediately asked about it.The manager offered us a deal if each child had an adult to accompany them. We couldn’t pass it up so we did the mini-training, strapped in and waited our turn to climb the rope ladder.

I was with my son, Noah, who quickly climbed the ladder as I belayed him. He made it look easy and I was eager to join him at top. However, as I began my climb the narrow ladder, it began to twist and sway. I quickly realized it was going to be trickier than it appeared.

I felt uncoordinated as I climbed. When it came time for me to reach from the ladder and step onto the platform, a fear of heights took over me that I had never experienced before. I stood on the platform, grasping the pole and afraid to move. I wanted to go down - immediately.

I didn’t want to let Noah down so I tried to gather my nerves. He waited for me to clip him in to his first course while I mentally tried to think of a way to get out of it and without disappointing him. Maybe he’ll hate it and “need” me to go down with him.

No such luck – he loved it.

It was my turn to lean out, grab the rope and step off the firm platform onto a swinging rope. It was unnerving and I hated it at first but I didn’t fall and even ended the day with an adrenaline high.

Here are a few life lessons it taught me.

1. Straight paths are not always easy. In Proverbs 3 we’re encouraged to trust in God and not our own understanding. But just because God directs us to a path, it doesn’t mean it’ll necessarily be easy. My fears (understanding) told me to quit. However, if I had listened, I would have missed out on a great bonding time with my son. It was worth the struggle.

2. Taking the 1^st step is not always the hardest part. For me, taking the 2^nd and 3^rd step was harder. Each one took me further from the platform and my safety blanket. It was even scarier at the end when I had to take one hand off of the rope to climb onto the next platform. It required me letting go and reaching out to another for help. Every step of our path we are dependent upon God and others – and this is a good thing.

3. “Healthy”pride won’t lead to a fall. Healthy pride keeps us from sitting out on life. I was with my son and his opportunity to continue on the ropes course was dependent on me staying with him. I didn’t want him to see me as a mom who quits on him. So I struggled on. My pride didn’t want to disappoint him so it spurred me on.

There have been times in life where fear kept me from trying. I didn’t send a query letter because I feared the rejection. I didn’t talk to a person because I feared looking foolish. I didn’t apply for a position because I feared I wouldn’t be able to handle the position.

God broke through that day. He reminded me that He enables us and He clears the right path for us. It may not be smooth sailing the whole way but the bonding and joy He gives us are more than worth it.

Do you have fears that prevent you from stepping out?

What has God taught you as you tackled your fears?

The Cost of Fear

Kristin Ritzau — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 12:46:17 -0800

Fear abounds; on blogs, television, schools, nations, churches. Fear seeps in and makes us cling to the comfort of what we know which leads to a false sense of security. Fear denies, pushes away and closes off. Fear makes us forget that sacrifice is necessary for life.

Perfection, for me, was the mask hiding my fear. I only handled matters I knew something about and pretended to know about issues I did not understand. But something shifted as I learned to take the mask off. I didn't need to know all of the answers any more. A change occurred in my soul as I became teachable from other people's experiences and stories. Together we could make a way through the fuzziness to be seen and so much of life is about just being visible to one another.

The mask kept me closed off, restricted and bound. I was not willing to risk being known. How could I be beloved? Shame was my shadow that constantly pulled me back into my hiding place.

The cost of exposing myself -- which voiced itself in a fear of being misunderstood, not seen, unappreciated -- seemed too great. But in this hibernation I not only distorted myself, I also started seeing others in a warped way too. Unable to give grace room to breathe, I underestimated the Other and the humble power of reconciliation.

My journey of facing my true self has led to hard, but grace-filled conversations of how to live out of this reality. Facebook, blogs, and edited television dramas provide me with a false sense of interacting on a global level. My life isn't global though -- it's not my job to save the world -- I need to save myself. But I can't do that alone.

The tiny part of this planet where I am sitting is what I'm concerned about -- my home, my land, my neighborhood, my church, my chickens... But here is the interesting part: Yes, in a sense these are mine, but they also belong to other people.

The night we moved into our home, amongst broken glass and soiled carpets, our fear was about to engulf us. What did we do? In that moment our tears turned to prayer. We were rightfully angry, but in that instant we realized this is what happens when people close themselves off from true community; what happens when you are not known.

We prayed that our home would not just be ours -- that hospitality and sharing our resources would become a way of life. Did we know what that meant? Are we perfect at it? No way. But slowly, letting patience and time have their own learning curve, we are learning bit by bit, day by day, what intentional living means. As my friend Laura said recently, "It's easy to forget you are turning when the curve is really wide." So we keep on going into the unknown.

This week a firestorm of information about the Dervaes family bombarded my computer and conversations with friends. I greatly admire and respect their work in Pasadena, Calif. and recently met them at their home. My friend and I begged for a tour of their backyard homestead where they work an actual farm on a tenth of an acre in the city. They had genuine grace in their decline as we perused their small market in the front yard.

What shocked the online homesteading community where we are all trying to invest in an intentional sustainable lifestyle in our neighborhoods is that they trademarked the terms "Urban Homestead" and "Urban Homesteading." These terms have been around since the 1970s and more and more this movement (and the words around it) are becoming commonplace.

In talking with the Dervaes briefly, who are now international celebrities for their lifestyle, they are justifiably protective of their home after attempts of curious onlookers, gawkers, wannabes and exploiters have taken advantage of their passion. They have shared their knowledge and now bit by bit are clinging to it as a means of staking a claim. Their energy is being directed at taking back words instead of educating about what those words mean.

However, in the end epistemology cannot be owned. Words cannot be possessed. Sure people are credited with ideas, but those ideas do not appear out of thin air -- they are built in communities. They are added on to, shared, dissected and reformed. The Dervaes wanted to make an impact (and are), but it comes with a cost I'm not sure they realized. So should they get defensive and trademark something that really doesn't belong to them?

A recent TED video (see below) with Jacqueline Novogratz speaks to the matter of monetary gain and profit over impact -- it distorts and muddles good intent. She describes with great heart how we want everything, and then considerately asks, but what do we want to sacrifice? How do we live lives with healthy boundaries but not alienate those closest to us?

The Dervaes want to protect a lifetime of hard work and their idea of home. The family has no children, so this is their legacy. Their voice pleads for understanding, while their actions are misleading. All the while I can't help wonder if their homestead will go from farm to museum if they hold their cards too close in fear, pushing away those who sincerely wish to see them.

We all risk becoming a plaque to collect dust; a memory, a season of the past. Is it possible to reclaim a vision for life where, as Novogratz speaks to, we visualize, as the Native American elders do, what impact we will have for seven generations from now? That we do not segregate people, ideas and money, leading to corruption, exclusion and cynicism, dreaming of a forgotten past. Rather, follow a path marked with mercy, compassion, justice, and accountability leaving the soil to be worked for the future.

We have to learn to share. We have to learn what we have to give, how to not exploit ourselves or others while learning from those around us equally. If we put our defenses down and immerse with each other in just a small way, and I echo Novogratz again here, aren't we better to live a life of immersion than go untouched? It is a way of influencing by acknowledging who we are in strength and weakness. Closing one's self off in fear and defensiveness might make you infamous, but it won't be a legacy of stewardship and compassion worth emulating. A life lived by yourself is not living; it is a slow death toward extinction. I pray that is not the case for our tiny homestead; it will be a hard life, with cost and sacrifice, but the gain will be worth it.

TED video click here

Letting Go Of The Fear

Manuel Luz — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 16:48:42 -0700

Think of the word “artist” and several images come to mind. A goateed man with a beret and a paint brush. A red-mouthed diva in a glittering gown. An aging rock star with a rider that includes green M&M’s and Evian bottled water. The word implies a lot of things. Talent, excellence, and a level of achievement reserved for people with record contracts or whose work hangs in museums. But also weirdness, eccentricity, capriciousness, and ego.

The word “artist” seems to be an intimidating word for many, and I find a lot of people reluctant to apply it to themselves. In short, the word carries a lot of baggage.

I’ve been speaking to a number of people lately who are trying on the word, “artist.” In various venues, I’ve been talking to people who are exploring what it is to be made in the image of God, the Master Artist who painted the stars, sculpted the planets, formed our beings. And if it is true that we were made to be creative—to build and explore and express and make art—how does that affect the way we see ourselves? Can we use the word “artist” to describe the human condition? Can you use the word to describe you?

One of the recurring themes that keeps popping up in discussions has to do with fear. It comes in many forms, degrees, and flavors, but I think we all have it. Artists crave the approval of others. From the shyest artist to the most egotistical, we all seem to desire the approval of an audience through our work. Our art is such a personal expression of ourselves that we wrongly attach the approval of our art to the approval of ourselves. If they like my song, my painting, my film, then they must like me. And if they hate it, then they hate me. And we all fear the rejection.

There are a lot of layers here. Some seek to compensate for a lack of approval from their families of origin or some other place. Some carry scars that create a low self-esteem, which they hide behind their art. Some carry huge egos about themselves, choosing to believe that they are more than they are, but really it is a defense mechanism for the low self-worth they desperately avoid seeing in themselves. Some hide behind the idea that they don’t want to compromise their art, or that they are simply misunderstood, or that it isn’t mainstream, or that the art just isn’t good enough. And they stand on these excuses to justify never allowing their art to be expressed publicly. Some never really allow their art to be seen because they are afraid—afraid of criticism, afraid of rejection, afraid of being known.

And here is what happens. Artists allow their fear to control their expression. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

The journey of the artist who follows Christ should be one in which we courageously strip ourselves from all of these layers, these lies. We must strip away the paralyzing need for approval, the wrong self-perceptions, the elaborate defense mechanisms we create for ourselves, the pride which is fueled by false identity, and most of all, the fear. Because to be an “artist” before God is to simply express the fact that we are His children made in the Imago Dei, the image of the Artist God.

“For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba Father.’” Romans 9:14-15 TNIV

Yes, it is easier said than done. But the journey toward wholeness in Christ is ultimately the easy yoke we are called to wear. We really are God’s children, dearly beloved, sons and daughters of our Abba Father. To understand that—and to deeply know that only his unconditional and unwavering approval is what matters—is what it is to live and express our art with true freedom, without fear.

Fires, Cold Temps and Bears, Oh My!

Laurie Russell — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 11:31:26 -0700

Last week our family went camping up in the mountains - our last hoorah of summer. The drive was gorgeous. A few hours into our trip, we passed a sign informing us we were 16 miles from our destination. Twenty minutes and we’d be there.

As I looked around at the mountains I noticed an odd plane flying low in the foothills. We’ve had a dry summer in Idaho with many grass and forest fires. I wondered if there was a small fire in the area they were trying to put out.

The road wrapped around a curve and we saw it. A huge cloud of smoke was pouring out the side of the mountain (actual photo from iPhone above). It looked like the beginnings of a forest fire. The crews were arriving, assessing the situation and awaiting their orders. It was an eery feeling as we drove closer and closer. My first instinct was to turn around and head back towards Boise.

I mentioned this idea to Mark – sixteen miles seemed a bit too close. Our beetle-infested trees are kindling for a fire. Fear emerged as I imagined the worst. Mark reminded me that the roads were still opened and if it were too dangerous the forest rangers would evacuate us. So we drove on and arrived at our campground. Mark went to sign in with the campground manager. It was taking a while so I joined him to see if there was a problem.

Mark had an odd smile on his face. He looked a bit nervous actually. It was the same timid expression he wears when he’s about to tell me something he knows will set me off, ahem, I mean make me a little upset.

I joined the two men and the campground manager turned to me, “We’ve had bears visit the campground every night this week. The berries froze this year and they are hungry. Now they’ve discovered human food and they want more.”

Uh…

“It’s just black bears but last night one raised to it’s hind legs. That’s a sign of aggression. So keep your site clean and your dogs in your tent. Oh and bundle up. It’s going to be a low of 25 in a few nights.”

Now I love the outdoors – it’s our escape. However, there is still a part in me that is pure city. At that moment the city girl in me was quickly emerging and I was moments away from informing Mark I wanted to go home.

We turned and headed back to our car where our 7 and 9 yr-old were waiting for us. They were giddy. This was the trip they had waited for all summer. I didn’t want to take it from them. Was my fear a protective fear from God or was it my flesh wanting to flee and take the easy road?

We decided to stay. That first night it took a while for me to fall asleep but I finally dozed off. A few hours later I’m abruptly awaken.

“Git on outta here! Go! Git bear, git!” bang, slam, bang

I couldn’t breath. I felt paralyzed. The bear was a couple sites over. All that separated us was space and a thin piece of material.

Our dogs began to growl. Should I shush them or let them bark?

I woke Mark. He kept us quiet. Moments later I heard a similar commotion at a site behind us. Oh no, he’s moving around!

I’ve never felt such a pounding fear before. All of a sudden I had an urge to pee. The clashing of these two sensations was not pleasant. Yikes! The minutes ticked on then all was quiet. The bear was gone and so was my sleep.

The next morning we talked about the bear at breakfast. The kids had slept through the whole ordeal. However, they thought it was cool, an adventure. Go figure.

Fear is a powerful tool. It can give us that fight or flight response. It can also paralyze us. All three responses can be healthy but they can also be unhealthy and unproductive. We can be deterred from what God has in store for us or where He is leading us.

This camping trip was a blessing. We bonded over our bear stories. We sat around the campfire, cuddled and fought off the frigid cold. If we had fled like my first instinct, we would have missed all of these memories.

Wisdom is required with fear. Jesus feared the Cross. He could have fled but he didn’t. He had spent the previous night in prayer so He knew what was required of Him. He fought off the fear and because of it we all have been bonded together as a family.

How does fear affect you? Any stories on how God has used it in your life?

Any advice on how you decipher fear?

Fear and Loathing--Period

bo.white — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 14:28:52 -0700

Hunter S. Thompson wrote a series of articles in 1971 in Rolling Stone that eventually were turned into the book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream. One of the more memorable quotes, in my opinion, is as follows:

Hallucinations are bad enough. But after a while you learn to cope with things like seeing your dead grandmother crawling up your leg with a knife in her teeth. Most acid fanciers can handle this sort of thing. But nobody can handle that other trip—the possibility that any freak with $1.98 can walk into Circus-Circus and suddenly appear in the sky over downtown Las Vegas twelve times the size of God, howling anything that comes into his head. No, this is not a good town for psychedelic drugs. Reality itself is too twisted.

The last part is something I have come to embrace as a day to day truth. Often ‘reality itself’ is far more twisted than we’d like to admit. And it’s the pervasive reality of fear in our media, in our language, in our news, and yes, in our churches that becoming far, far too twisted. Now, don’t get me wrong, I fear things, so this is not one of those athletic commercials or t-shirts that brags about having ‘no fear.’ For example, I fear snakes, meatloaf, and stray dogs. So, the issue isn’t fear. On the contrary, I think I am becoming increasingly afraid of all of the fear.

I just moved from Arizona back to the Midwest and I am amazed at how many people simply fear the immigration law around the country. Most people have never read the law; many more have no experience living in Arizona. We simply hear conversations that are grossly fear based. ‘Did you hear about the law in Arizona? They’re going to destroy the fabric of our society with that thing…what’s wrong with the people of Arizona?” Yes, I actually heard that—from church going folk!

What if the economy doesn’t recover this year? What happens if Barack Obama succeeds in having all of his policies pass into law? What happens if the Republicans win the mid-term elections? What happens if the religious right are proven to be totally wrong, will the evangelical church split? What happens if the Catholic church allows priests to marry? What happens if Protestants allow all gays, everywhere to marry?

Hunter Thompson writes in a different article, prior to his death:

We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear—fear of war, fear of poverty, fear of random terrorism, fear of getting down-sized or fired because of the plunging economy, fear of getting evicted for bad debts or suddenly getting locked up in a military detention camp on vague charges of being a Terrorist sympathizer.

"Extreme Behavior in Aspen," February 3, 2003

In the church, I don’t hear a lack of fear either, although over a hundred times, God Himself tells us ‘do not fear’ in the Bible. We live in a culture of fear and loathing and it’s pervasive. People are exporting it to each other and other countries; church people are importing it to pulpits and Bible studies. So, when will it stop? I am not sure. Steps, though, can be taken to reduce our succumbing to it. We can rehearse in our minds the promises of the gospel. We can celebrate the fact that we’re not in control. When ‘reality itself is too twisted,’ maybe we should realize that the non-twisted parts are often not reality. We can drink more, drink less, take road trips, acid trips, or mission trips. We can watch movies, read books, download an app., friend someone, or surf something. We can do a myriad of things to fight the fear and fight it we must. Because at this point, we may all have to answer the question--what are you more afraid of—the times we are living in or the people who are afraid of the times we are living in?

-bo

Questions Christians Fear

Sean McDowell — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 16:12:20 -0700

What are the questions you most fear being asked about your faith? Even as a trained apologist there are many tough questions I hope don’t come up in my discussions with non-believers. Some questions are simply difficult to answer. But we can’t ignore the tough questions. Such an approach is cowardly and counterproductive for the kingdom of God. We must—yes, must—be prepared with an answer for the toughest questions (1 Peter 3:15). We have nothing to fear because the truth is on our side.

I recently had the opportunity to endorse Mark Mittelberg’s upcoming book entitled, “The Questions Christians Hope No One Will Ask (With Answers).” This book is based upon a survey Mark sponsored with Tyndale Publishers through the Barna Group of one thousand self-proclaimed Christians. They asked each person what faith questions they would feel most uncomfortable being asked by a co-worker or friend. Some questions are expected but a few might come as a surprise.

In my opinion, Mark is one of the best “popular” level apologists today. He’s well aware of the scholarly research, but he makes it understandable, relevant, practical, and interesting. He has the same ministry heartbeat as Lee Strobel, his ministry partner and friend for over twenty-three years.

According to the Barna survey here’s the questions Christians hope no one will ask:

What makes you so sure that God exists at all—especially when you can’t see, hear, or touch him?

Didn’t evolution put God out of a job? Why rely on religion in an age of science and knowledge?

Why trust the Bible, a book based on myths and full of contradictions and mistakes?

Everyone knows that Jesus was a good man and a wise teacher—but why try to make him into the Son of God, too?

How could a good God allow so much evil, pain, and suffering—or does he simply not care?

Why is abortion such a line in the sand for Christians? Why can’t I be left alone to make my own choices for my own body?

Why do you condemn homosexuality when it’s clear that God made gays and that he loves all people the same?

How can I trust in Christianity when so many Christians are hypocrites-or, even worse, they're judgmental toward everyone who doesn't agree with them?

Why should I think that heaven really exists—and that God sends people to hell?

The purpose of this blog is not to answer these questions but to make you aware of how Christians are thinking. The purpose is also to challenge you to think about these important questions and to do a little soul searching. Sometimes it’s better to ask questions than to answer them. In fact, Jesus asked questions in the gospels, even though he knew the answers.

So, here are some questions for you: Are you prepared to answer these questions? Which one are you most confident to answer? Which one are you the least confident about? Why do you think Christians fear these particular questions? When was the last time you were asked one of these questions? How often are you in discussions with Christians (and more importantly, non-Christians) about these important topics? What does this reveal about you?

I suspect we fear these questions because we don’t want to look bad in front of others. None of us want to get caught off guard. But in reality, what this reveals is how self-focused we really are. Fear is always selfish. Love is always selfless. And that is why 1 John 4:8 says that perfect love casts out fear. When we focus on loving others we can often move beyond our fears. If we really care about our non-believing friends, we will take the time to think through these questions so we can provide a thoughtful answer when they ask.

If you want answers to these questions, and some practical advice of how to apply these answers to evangelism, pre-order a copy of Mark’s book! Or buy a copy for a friend. Either way, this books needs to get into as many hands as possible. It’s great stuff!

Dishonesty is Like a Monkey with Cymbals

John Barry — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 19:00:07 -0700

We all know being dishonest with others is wrong and unacceptable: enough said. But there’s a kind of dishonesty we usually don’t talk about: being dishonest with ourselves. It happens when we’re unwilling to admit our personal faults and weaknesses. We convince ourselves that we can overcome our greatest weaknesses on our own. We go on without accountability. Eventually, either by force or surrender, though, we have to come to terms with who we really are.

If worry is like a dancing bear, then dishonesty is like a monkey with clanging cymbals. I’m a drummer—while we’re being honest, I prefer to be called a percussionist; if you’re a musician, you will get the joke, if not, I’ll just say I do more than bang on trash cans—so I love the toy monkeys with clanging cymbals. And I love the videos of monkeys trying to play with percussion instruments. (That stuff is make your ribs-hurt funny.) But when the monkey with clanging cymbals comes on the scene, we have a hard time hearing anything else. While that monkey is telling us lies about good music, like a garage-band drummer, we can’t hear the real melody. We can’t tune for the life of us. Eventually, we end up playing punk rock and having black hair, and calling ourselves an artist. (I did that, for the record.)

Sooner or later, though, the monkey stops clanging his cymbals for a moment and we hear something else: silence. And in the moments when it’s just you and your thoughts, you begin to reflect: God hasn’t been around for a while. Until it dawns on you, “He’s been here along—it’s me who hasn’t been around. It’s just been that darn, loud monkey version of me. It was funny and fun, but I still have a need for real music.”

We have a hard time perceiving God in the silence because we’re so loud. Dishonesty is like an amplifier of the noise. But eventually the silence will reach us, and we will have to make a change; so why not make it now?

We all have moments when we have to make decisions about who we are, and who we want to be. So we just need to shut up the monkey and make the decision. We just need to say: “I will listen to God. And I will admit my weaknesses and ask for help—from him and from other people.”

Are you willing to make a change? What’s your monkey with clanging cymbals?

For further reflection read the story of Elijah meeting God in the silence.

"Perhaps" - the power of risk, and the paralysis of fear

Richard Dahlstrom — Fri, 21 May 2010 13:44:40 -0700

If you're climbing a rock face, the thing that spares you from death in the event of a fall is your protection (which is some sort of anchor you put in the rock that will put an end to your falling). Of course, the higher you climb beyond your last piece of protection, the farther you'll fall if you fail. This can have the effect of unnerving the climber, which ultimately negates the climber's skills, causing him/her to freeze with fear and eventually fall.

It's terrible irony that the very thing they fear, ends up happening, precisely because they're afraid of it happening. "Fear" it turns out, is one of the worst enemies, just as Roosevelt, and Joshua, and the angel all said. It has the power to strip us of our capacities, freezing out the kind of risk necessary someone's going to embody the generous, just, wall breaking, bridge building, life restoring character of Jesus. Live too carefully, and you'll end up looking religious instead of righteous - painfully boring, and ridden with anxiety.

I think we usually become better at careful living the older we get, because acquiring more is the social equivalent of climbing higher. As we amass stuff, or social status, or net worth, it becomes increasingly tempting to live carefully, fearful as we are of losing what we've worked hard to acquire. But we didn't acquire much of anything by living fearfully, and so we run the risk, like the climber, of substituting 'prudence' for courage, of 'moderation' for wise risk. If our motive in so downsizing is 'preservation', we've lost already, even if we win. Risk is inherent in any worthwhile endeavor and the old man Caleb reminds us that we needn't lose our stomach for it as we grow old, or climb higher.

I'd suggest that this 'fear of loss' weighs, not only on families, but on the psyche of entire nations. Recent gridlocks in our nation's capitol are rooted in, among other things, a fear that any course of action will run the risk of loss. We don't want to raise taxes or cut revenue, for fear of losing - votes, popularity with the voters, security. We don't want to regulate banking for fear of losing - political favor with lobbyists, the mirage of greed free "free markets", whatever. So we freeze, or act so feebly that our actions are functionally meaningless. We're like the climber on the rock face, thirty feet above his last piece of protection and too afraid to go up or down. He'll remain there until his strength gives out, and then he'll do what all people paralyzed with fear do: he'll fall.

Jonathan took on an entire garrison with this scant assurance: "Perhaps the Lord will work for us..." He know that the important thing wasn't succeeding or failing, but doing the right thing. He knew that falling while trying something great was better than freezing and not trying anything at all because of fear.

The degree to which fear - of loss, or failure, or rejection, infects us, both individually and in our national psyche, is astonishing. We hear it in daily conversations, see it in the way news is delivered, and live it by staying home and watching TV when there are whole truckloads of living to be done. And sitting there in our fear, you know what will happen: our fears will come true.

One simple verse in Psalm 73 is, for me, the most powerful antidote to fear: "Who do I have in heaven but you O Lord, and having you I desire nothing else on earth." If Christ is meaningful to me, the real basis of satisfaction, then I'm liberated from needing $$ success, or the perfect reputation, or success in every endeavor - I'm free to climb - both literally and metaphorically, knowing that weather I land at the top, or in a heap, my most important Companion will be there with me. And that, it seems, ought to be enough. This is the "why" of intimacy with Christ: a byproduct of intimacy is contentment, and a by-product of contentment is courage, and courage, God knows, is what we all need these days.

I welcome your thoughts.

Who Do You Trust? Really

Dave Sterrett — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 12:26:11 -0800

For your first week of reading, Why Trust Jesus? Here's several questions that I want you to ask yourself but also ask your friends in your community group/ book study group. After you have read Norman Geisler's foreword and my introduction, consider these questions.

1. What characteristics do you look for in someone else, before you can trust them?

2. What are the greatest barriers to trusting Christ daily in your own life? Is it intellectual, emotional, or self-sufficiency? Talk it out.

3. We have all probably been let down by Christians. Maybe a pastor or priest, a father or mother, an ex-lover. In the midst of disappointments or failures, why do you believe the Christian faith is most trustworthy? Or more specifically, why Jesus?

4. What steps will you take this week to grow in trust?

On a weekly basis, we will upload new videos that will hopefully help facilitate questions in your small group study. Come back and share what you discovered. Let's interact on this blog.

Worry is Like a Dancing Bear

John Barry — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 21:45:20 -0800

We may love the monkeys at the circus, but the dancing bear is what everyone wants to see. Admit it, a beast doing things it should not be capable of is enthralling. When I let worry run the show, everything else becomes a side act. Worry becomes the dancing bear.

Worry controls us, confines us, and consumes us. It can stop us in our tracks. Worry is not a friend. It is an enemy of free thinkers and entrepreneurs. It can even take down those gifted by God. It can destroy anyone who wishes to live freely. From the very beginning of the church we see worry putting a stop to God’s work.

Why does Peter deny Jesus? Worry and (no doubt) fear. Like the trainer—who is likely scared out of his mind when trying to keep the dancing bear at bay—fear is a bi-product. Not what we came to the show to see, but he is there anyway. We wonder, why am I so afraid to do what God is calling me to do? Answer: worry began the show and now fear has control.

We would like to get rid of fear, but as long as worry is around, fear will be there too.

This is why Jesus says, “Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing” (Luke12:22 ESV). What if Jesus had said, do not worry about money? Your occupation? Your house? Your friends? Your family? Your church? Your very life? In not so many words, that is exactly what he is saying.

But how many of us live without worry? I know I don’t. I battle it everyday. And some days—many days—it wins.

Worry (or anxiety) can cause us to care about stuff that is none of our business. It can make us meddle, fiddle and shmiddle (my made up word; admit it, you were going to look it up). It can drive us to get involved when we should step back. So lest we think worry is only about what we “don’t do”; let’s remember that it is about what we “do, do.” (Intentional use of a pun. Do-do-results are a natural bi-product of worry. I know, I am childish.)

The author of Ecclesiastes understood worry. He says, “Cast your bread upon the waters [the stuff you want to hold back from God, like food, clothing and money] for you will find it after many days” (Eccl 11:1). God will give back to you what you give (in a spiritual sense), so give up trying to control everything (Eccl 11:2). Give up trying to confine situations.

Disaster could strike at any moment: “for you know now what disaster may happen on earth” (Eccl 11:2 ESV). We are not distant from this anymore (e.g., Haiti, Chile, New Orleans—the list goes on and on). We know that at any moment, everything we are worrying about won’t matter anymore.

I am reminded of the tattoo of a guy I met recently. He had the initials “I.W.I.I.” on his knuckles. It stands for “It is what it is.” That’s what the author of Ecclesiastes picks up on in the next line: “If the clouds are full of rain, they empty themselves on the earth and if a tree falls to the south or to the north, in the place where the tree falls, there it will lie. He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap" (Eccl 11:3–4 ESV).

A well-known Latin phrase (thanks to Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society; shout out to my favorite movie) captures the same idea: “Carpe Diem,” which means “Seize the Day.” You can’t change it; so seize it—undaunted. You can’t alter it. So don’t worry about it. It is what it is. Live your life to the fullest—that is all you can do. If you don’t, you won’t reap; it won’t rain.

Why should we do this? We don’t know how things work, so we need to stop playing God. “As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything. In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good” (Eccl 11:5–6 ESV).

The author of Ecclesiastes puts the dancing bear in his place by making the monkeys a little more popular again:

“Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun. So if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many. All that comes is vanity. Rejoice, O young man, in your youth, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth. Walk in the ways of your heart and the sight of your eyes. But know that for all these things God will bring you into judgment. Remove vexation from your heart, and put away pain from your body, for youth and the dawn of life are vanity” (Eccl 11:7–10 ESV).

If only we lived by this principle. Many of the things we strive to control and confine end up consuming us. And for what purpose? None. Worrying accomplishes nothing. Actions mean everything. If you can’t do anything about it, let it be what it is. Otherwise, we may just miss out on seeing the infinite God in everything. Otherwise, we may miss life. Otherwise, we may fail everyone around us, and we may fail God.

What do you think? Has worry been a controlling factor in your life? What’s your dancing bear?