Back at the Ranch

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear."

--Mark Twain

I'll admit it, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of a lot of things. I'm afraid of frogs, yeah I said it. I can hold a fish or snake without a problem, but frogs terrify me. I'm afraid of getting shots and going to the dentist. I'm afraid of my next dental bill. I'm afraid of losing my keys and someone driving away with my truck. (I'm afraid I was only searching for a reason to show a picture of Sherebiah, as handsome as he is). I'm afraid of heights. I'm afraid that a masked man is waiting beneath my truck with a pair of tin snips ready to snap my Achilles tendon, not because of the pain, but because of the fact that it can't be fixed. I'm afraid of what people think of me. I'm afraid of giving something my all and it still not be enough. Even more than that I am afraid of not giving something my all and wondering what it would have been like if I did. I'm afraid of settling for anything. Yet most of all, I'm afraid of letting God down.

I attribute it to another fear of mine: wasting things. That's why I'm cheap and never throw anything away, there's always a use for something. I am surrounded by people who are neat and tidy, whose anthem for cleaning is, "When in doubt throw it out." I on the other hand will hold onto anything and everything in the odd chance that it might be used again. I kept a leaf engraved with my dog's name for a good three months until it rotted and crumpled into nothing, all because a little girl from the neighborhood gave it to me after my puppy was born. I collect tacks, paperclips, blank paper, rubber bands, and any pen in the odd chance that it might find use again somewhere down the line. I have to eat all the food on my plate (within reason, meaning if I like it) and refuse to throw it away, even if it causes "discomfort" further down the road. There's always a use for something -- even me.

But the Voice of Truth tells me a different story.
The Voice of Truth says "Do not be afraid."
The Voice of Truth says "This is for My glory."

Out of all the voices calling out to me,
I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth.

-- Casting Crowns

I love that song, it speaks to me, it inspires me, but it doesn't describe me. I love the artistry with which they describe the "other voices" that remind us how we've failed; the giants of this world who spit in our faces and remind us we're nothing but little boys with a sling, the waves that keep us from stepping out and following Jesus. Genius, poignant genius; but it doesn't describe me. Yes the waves and the giants get to me, but they're not my greatest fear.

Marianne Williamson wrote: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others"

I'm afraid of letting God down, not in my mistakes along the way, though they are inevitable, not in His disappointment, though it is uncomfortable, and not the consequences as they are unavoidable. Rather, my fear is myself; not who I wouldn't be, the burier of my talent, but who I could be, the owner of ten talents -- the good and faithful servant (Matt. 25).

There will be moments when I am concerned about how the world perceives me, when the giants, frogs and waves of this world beat me down, and I will be afraid. There will be occasions when the Devil waits beneath my truck armed with snips of deceit hoping to cut my life in two, and I will be afraid. I will no doubt have my own Moses incident, when scared of the height God has brought me I will take the staff of His talent and beat it against the Rock of his glory, taking the credit for myself. My mistakes may keep me from an earthly Promised Land, but like all that is said before, I will be afraid, but it won't be my greatest fear.

My greatest fear is that I never encounter these smaller fears, that I live a life so consumed with the avoidance of fear that I neglect to participate at all. So, I'll admit it, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of a lot of things, and in doing so conquer my greatest fear: A life without it.