An elementary after school play date. Two other friends and
I playing inside at a friend’s house. Deciding to go into the front yard, we
heard the screen door slam behind us. Her mom and neighbor standing in the
front door. And with a “ruff, ruff” two HUGE dogs busted through the neighbor’s
door like race horses leaving their stalls after the gunshot. And me, who did
not find big dogs to be my best friends but one of my biggest fears, saw the
drooling duo heading my way. I immediately took off in a sprint down the
street. The thuds of paws; the jingling of their tags; the huffing and puffing
and panting. Must. Run. Faster…Curplop. Thud. Ouch. Pain. Dog licking my face. Tears.
And then came my friends to meet me in the road where I had face planted thanks
to a gigantic pot hole that had reached up and grabbed my foot and caused me to
plummet to the ground. (Okay so the pot hole was probably only 6 inches in
diameter, but nevertheless it had been the cause to my down fall). As my
friends reached me they turned me over. Sitting up I saw a puddle of red liquid
forming on the surface of my left knee. The stinging, the burn, and then there
was the bruised pride. Helping me back into the house, the cut was cleaned and
covered. My mom was called and drove up quickly after. The rest of that night
was a blur. But a few days later I remember the scrape not healing. I was sent
to the nurse. This was not your ordinary cut. I’m not sure what she did or what
exactly was wrong with it (I think it may have gotten infected), but if you
look at my left knee you’ll see the remains of that day imprinted still to this
day.
You know, sometimes I wish I was still that young girl. Skidded
and scrapped knees didn’t seem to hurt as bad as the pain of knowing how broken
and fragile your heart is. How fractured you are due to sin. And even when you’re
rescued the constant battle you need to be saved from day after day takes a
toll, your heart is weary from being drug, skidded and scrapped. It’s been made
new, but the part about it being made new, that’s a long drawn out process.
Including the rooting out of fear.
I am finding in many ways I still am that same scared little
girl running from the dogs, only this time they have different faces, different
names. Today I’d call the drooling duo The Fears: the fear of being unloved,
the fear of rejection, the fear of being a disappointment, the fear of the
future, the fear of succeeding at things that don’t matter, the fear of not
being enough, the fear of not getting the job, the fear of man, and the list could
continue on and on. These fears jolt me into escape mode, and each time I scramble
to run from them I find myself face down on the floor, more hurt, worn, and
tattered than before. Instead of remembering and resting in the truth that I’ve
already been rescued when Jesus bought my soul with His death and
resurrection-The Great Escape, instead of remembering that His everlasting love
casts out ALL fear for all fear is but a
notion that His love ends, you know what I do? I resort to my own escape
methods. They lead me not out of fear but into failure: failure to love,
failure to see others, failure to be for His praise and glory, failure to
trust, just like a pot hole led me to falling to the ground. And these “escapes”
come with consequences, lasting effects, like the scar I have on my knee. They drive
me deeper into captivity. My chains are gone, but I always seem to want to pick
them back up and carry them, wrap myself in them.
What if my reaction would have been different many years
ago? What if instead of running I stood my ground as the dogs ran to me, or
even stretched out my hand to welcome them and their wet tongue? What if I
confidently stood knowing they couldn’t harm me? What if I stood behind someone
who wasn’t afraid?
The same goes with fears. Instead of running from the things
that I am afraid of, pressing them deeper in my heart and not dealing with
them, or even letting them consume me, what if I stood confidently knowing all
these things couldn’t harm me? What if I welcomed them, brought them out in the
open and chose to embrace the fear, strangling the fear with truth? Fear fades
in the light of eternal security. Assurance of where I will be for eternity
frees me to adventure through the present with confidence. What if instead of escaping when fear came I
stood behind Jesus?
“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of
grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need”
(Hebrews 4:16).
