Fear

You’ve got a lot of fear, you said.

It took me a while to admit that you were right.

But I see it now, like the tangled roots of a fallen tree,

The fear has broken my soil and shown me what lies underneath,

Like worms and crawling things that I don’t want to see.

Surely after all this time, I would know not to be afraid,

But I don’t. Even my words are laced with fear,

As I push them outward, wishing that instead they would pour from me,

But too afraid that they will look all wrong—

Like corpses and stains and broken bones and things that don’t fit right.

You’ve got a lot of fear.

I know.

It is that fear that wearies me, not the muscles that it takes to run at breakneck speed.

It hollows my lungs out and leaves no breath in them,

While my heart beats in time with the word, No, no, no,

Until I finally admit to myself that I am so, so scared,

And I crouch in my bed with my covers up over my head

Like a child who sees monsters in the closet, except this time,

The monster is me and I don’t know how to chase it away

Because my light switch is suddenly not the weapon I knew it to be.

You’ve got a lot of fear.

I know, I know, I know!

I grip even tighter the things that I am afraid of losing,

Friends, family, the way that life used to be,

And everything that was given freely, not earned—

Like grace.

I admit that most days, I’m afraid it will run out,

I will fall yet again and will take a drop of the cordial to heal my bones,

And it will be empty.

How many times do you have to tell me that it is unending?

Maybe it takes all of this failing and receiving over and over and over again to realize that

You cannot run out.

You are the Lord God Almighty,

Holy, holy, holy art thou, with a voice of many waters and feet of burnished bronze,

In your right hand is the church, and you hold the power to judge—

And to have mercy.

You are the I AM in the wilderness,

The Jehovah Jireh that raises the mountains to the sky,

The King of Kings and the Prince of Peace.

Who am I? Who am I even in the thunder and rain, in the tiny glimpses of your glory?

Who am I when the whirlwind comes?

I am but dust, brought to life with the breath of you,

Set into motion by the sinews and muscles and organs designed by you,

Made in the very image of you,

Yet still, I fill myself with all of this me—

With everything that is not of you,

With loneliness and selfishness and pride

That all sprout from this fear that I thought that I was immune to

Because I was too scared to admit that I needed you.

You have a lot of fear.

Yes. And you have the solution, the sacrifice that twisted fear around and destroyed it,

You have, no, you are the Perfect Love that casteth it out—

Not like a boomerang, to be brought back again,

Not tied to strings to reel it in,

You cast it out into deepest ocean and there is no fishing, no diving, and no picking up shells here.

These lingering remnants of fear are but what I have illegally taken and hidden,

And you know that I cling to the threads of myself, you know that I take them out at night and count them one by one.

And so you come to me in the still small voice, and you say,

You’ve got a lot of fear.

And I look up at you with those big, fat tears in my eyes,

Like a child caught in the act of theft,

Ashamed of everything that makes up who I am.

I am afraid, I say.

Afraid of what?

The dark.

I am light.

Losing things.

I am gain.

Change.

I am the steady rock.

Messing up.

I am your strength and your completion.

Fear.

I am Perfect Love.

Being alone.

I am here.

Myself.

I am.

~~

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;

Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Let me hear joy and gladness,

Let the bones that you have broken rejoice.

Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

And renew a right spirit within me.

Cast me not away from your presence,

And take not your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

And uphold me with a willing spirit. 

Psalm 51:7-12