Do Not Be Afraid
Do you remember how deep and foreboding the woods could be at night? Or maybe even a single tree, just when the light from the crescent moon illuminated the branches from the odd angle?
Do you recall the sound of the coyotes howling into the darkness far down the field? Or the sound of raccoons fighting for dominance in the creek bed?
Can you feel the tingle run up your spine when it felt like a hot breath breathing down your neck from behind as you walked, then ran towards the house with only the light in the faraway windows to guide you home? Or the goose pimples which covered your body as the wind, before the night rain, swept you towards safety?
The words, "Do not be afraid", are said to be in the Bible 365 times. Yet, there are times when the last thing I am hearing in my parental/pastoral ears is, "Do not be afraid". Maybe it is not so much now, now that the woods and I have become companions, the various night sounds of animals give me comfort and wind in the gathering darkness is like the voice of an old friend, still, as when I was younger, there are times when fear holds fast to my heart.
These days it is more likely the worry for our children or grandchildren which stops me cold, or the meanness and vicious nature that some people express towards others, or even the pain I see etched in the eyes of one who has fallen prey to the calculated catastrophe others have intentionally dealt them. Fear has an insidious way of winding its way into the imagined abyss of the unknown, broadening the schism between rational thought and absolutely irrational paranoia. Fear buckles the knees and widens the eyes, trembles the heart and causes the soul to cry out. Fear is the troubled sea beneath the feet of Jesus and the winds howling through the mast of the boat His disciples are in. Fear evokes a cry for deliverance to a Deity we pray hears every word and fear dumps us on the ground, sweating, shivering, done in, spent, ready to give up, give in, give away whatever we must that we not to feel fear again.
Then Jesus says to us what He said to Peter that night on the sea, 'Come, walk with Me for a bit'.
Come, trust your instincts to believe. Come, put your hand in Mine. Come, do what you were created to do. Come, be the gift you were born to be. Come, dance on the waves and delight in the depths. Come, giggle at the darkness and embrace the possibilities. 'Come . . . walk with Me for a bit.' Do not give in to disbelief, anybody can do that. Have faith. Have faith that I am showing you a new way of being in this world. Have confidence in the One who knows where your hardships are. Be convicted by the Love which names and calls you to be the blessed child of God. Come.
In the gathering gloom of a virus which requires social isolation and self-quarantine for long periods of time, in the dire warnings floating across the continents from nation to nation of impending sickness and death, in the panic which compels people to hoard toilet paper as though the individual tissues themselves could be the source of comprehensive healing, Jesus says to all who will listen, 'Come, walk with Me for a bit'. There is another way to view the days we are in. Take it from the One who made the woods, the animals in them, and the winds which whistles through the trees. There is another way to be as we near Jerusalem and the sentencing others would impose upon us. 'Come, walk on the water with Me', says Jesus.
We can view the physical distress, the emotional upheaval and the global calamity of a pandemic as the final judgment, but dare we see medical communities advancing treatments and vaccines in the kind of rapid response previously unimagined as new Hope? Might we be convinced to concede that taking time away from our busyness simply to preserve life is beginning to foster a sense of well-being and time-taking with family and friends that, seemingly, had long ago been forgotten? Is it possible that closing the doors to faith communities for the sake of health is opening the hearts of faith families to rediscover the Spirit leading in new ways of being faithful? Could it be that social isolation was an eventual inevitability which came sooner than later, finding its footing as ground zero in a generation who has no idea of how to truly be social because of the isolation technology fosters? And, that now this same generation is at the cutting edge of being the connective tissue between nations, peoples and ethnicities as, together, we strive to find a cure for a virus with the capacity to kill? Maybe even while dealing a crushing blow to a few other things, like warring madness and money and power-hungry greediness?
'Come, walk on the water with Me', says Jesus.
"Don't be afraid", times 365.
There will always be a virus, but will there always be time to spend with family? There will always be a crisis, but will there always be time for our global community to behave with shared dignity and honor as a human community genuinely caring and rooting for each other? There will always be pain and death, but will there always be the opportunity for you and me to declare Life the Victor and fear the vanquished enemy? To walk confidently in the dark because we follow the Light? To embrace the unknown because we are loved by the One who already knows?
I remember what it is to fear . . . and I confess I sometimes still fear . . . but now, more than ever, I want to trip the light fantastic of faith with Jesus. Take my hand and swing me around, Lord. Swing us all around on the waters of the storm that we might truly reflect Your faith in us, in this and every age.
"Fear not, for I am with you. Be not afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious hand." Isaiah 41.10
It is as true now as it ever was. "Don't be afraid", we are always on the cusp of God's New Beginning. Please, come join Him on the Dance Floor, He will teach you the steps.
Something to ponder on the journey.
(c)dcw2020
