“Without fear, there cannot be courage.”
—Christopher Paolini, Eragon
I’m afraid of spiders, heights, air travel, and elevators. I’m also claustrophobic. This list isn’t exhaustive; these just came to mind first.
Even though I’m often anxious, I’m not unhappy—far from it. I have genuine joy, and I’ve managed to overcome (or avoid) most situations that frighten me.
Well, except spiders. For the sake of sanity, I had to get over that one.
Did you know you are never more than 10 feet away from a spider, no matter where you are?
You’re welcome.
So, I take heart in Mr. Paolini’s quote. Given my many fears, I’ve dubbed myself the most courageous person I know.
“He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.”
—Matthew 8:26, NIV
I've lost count of the sermons I’ve heard and personal conversations I’ve had addressing fear, often branded as sin. I held onto this belief for far too long, which produced no small amount of shame, only serving to intensify my anxiety.
Cali the calico cat changed my perception of fear.
Last summer, Gary and I decided to expand our family by two—with a pair of dilute calico cats we picked up during our vacation in Denver. While I was enthusiastic about Coco and Cali, Gary was more reluctant.
Upon arriving at their new home, the cats quickly found a hiding place under the bed in our upstairs guest room. They emerged only for meals, drinks, and “personal business.”
After about two months, our resident recluses mustered the courage to join us downstairs. As we turned (gently, I swear!) to acknowledge this momentous achievement, they promptly scurried back upstairs and slipped back under the guest room bed, not venturing to the first floor again for another month or so.
Unfortunately, when Cali ventured downstairs again, she got stuck in a baby gate we had installed at the bottom of the steps. Hearing her terrified howls, Gary rushed to her assistance. When he tried to pry her from between the slats, she clamped onto his forearm with razor-sharp teeth, piercing nearly to the bone. Once freed, she scratched him so deeply that we spent the next 6 hours in the emergency room getting him patched up.
The medical staff thoroughly irrigated his wounds, gave him a tetanus shot, and prescribed a strong antibiotic before sending us home.
I fully expected Gary to insist that we had made a mistake adopting Coco and Cali, and I must admit, he would have had a valid point. Instead, he said,
“She was just so scared.”
In that extraordinarily gracious moment, something clicked for me.
Is fear a sin?
If my husband can display such generous compassion to our rather shy and, let’s be honest, unproductive pet, making space for her fear, I began to question: Is human fear a sin?
It’s certainly been presented that way.
I've long believed that God is disappointed by my fearful, insecure, and often anxious nature, and I’ve felt ashamed for not cultivating a stronger faith. Several personal experiences have reinforced this message.
During a fierce storm on the shore of Lake Michigan, a bolt of lightning struck very close to a companion and me as we walked along the beach. The thunderclap was instantaneous, and I heard the sizzle as it sliced through the air and smelled a distinct odor in its wake, much like an electrical fire. Panicked, I ran to the relative safety of a pavilion, where my friend scolded me for being afraid. “Where’s your faith?!”
Attempting to be polite, I excused myself for accidentally talking over someone in a group discussion. Instead of simply acknowledging my faux pas, the facilitator declared in front of everyone, “You apologize too much. I bet you're insecure!” Another member gleefully chimed in, “Yes! You’re insecure!” Suddenly, I became the poster child for insecurity, with the whole group nodding along. Well, I am now. 😳
Recently, someone close to me recited a laundry list of my fears that I'd shared in confidence, letting me know just how exasperated they were with my intermittent bouts of angst.
I chose these three examples because of their absurdity, and before you worry that I’ve been irreparably harmed, I haven’t been. I even chuckled a bit as I wrote them.
If I had to guess, all parties involved acted based on a misguided notion that fear, due to its perceived sinful nature, is fair game for judgment. Though each instance was painful at the time, they’re a helpful reminder of the damage that can be done when we allow the misuse of Scripture to stand uncontested.
Have we read it wrong?
“You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” (Mt 8:26a) This verse, along with a few others,1 is often cited, implying that fear is a severe transgression. But I'm no longer convinced that's true.
We don’t hear the tone Jesus used while speaking to His friends. It could have been playful, teasing, or even deadpan; we really don’t know. All too often, we project our own prejudices onto Jesus’ words, adding emotion that may or may not have been present.
In any case, I don’t believe it was a strong correction. The second half of that passage reads, “…he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.” (Mt 8:26b). The anger He displayed was directed at the weather, not His disciples.
What about us?
Why is God often depicted as impatient or angry when we face the storms of life? Is He actually disappointed when we are unsure about our careers, struggle with our mental health, face serious illness, financial insecurity, or the loss of a loved one? Does He turn away, waiting for us to have perfect faith before showing His presence?
Surely, God's divine love seeks to offer reassurance and comfort in the face of our fears—even more profoundly than our efforts for those we love.
We don’t berate our children for their fear of the dark or for imagining monsters under the bed—not at all. We get on our hands and knees (nightly!), meticulously checking every corner to reassure them that their rooms are free from lurking boogeymen. We then tuck them in, kiss them on the forehead, and wish them a good night’s sleep with the assurance that we love them “to the moon and back.”
We don't disregard our friends and family’s anxieties, expecting them to reach out only after they've “calmed down.”
And we don’t punish our pets because they’re scared.
Are we superior in thought and deed than God, more compassionate than Jesus? Obviously not.
We’re worth more than cats, right?
We are.
That’s all I have for today.
Have you ever felt judged or shamed for experiencing fear? How can we cultivate a more empathetic and supportive attitude towards those struggling with anxiety? Please share your thoughts below!
2 Timothy 1:7, 1 John 4:18, Joshua 1:9, Romans 8:15
Kathleen, I appreciate your take on fear. It makes me exhale knowing that Jesus loves me and cares for me and not necessarily rebuking me for my fearful nature. What an opportunity to cling closer to Jesus instead of feeling like I have let him down... again.
Love this, Kathleen!