Fear. Worry. Anxiety. Whatever you call it, it has the potential to paralyze you.
If you have read my testimony, you know I have been quite familiar with fear and worry since I was a little girl. I remember lying awake at night, looking at my sister sleeping on the other side of the room, and thinking, "When I'm big like her, I won't be scared anymore." If only it was that easy.
As an adult, I became increasingly afraid of sickness; I was consumed by the fear of my kids getting sick. Anxiety was my constant companion, and I began to experience panic attacks. It was a very dark time in my life, but God carried me through it all. He delivered me from that darkness and gave me victory over the panic attacks.
So I put my testimony into words and posted it on my blog. But that wasn't the end of my story. God wasn't finished writing it yet.
God gave me victory over the panic attacks, but He didn't wave a magic wand and make me worry-free. I daily have to rely on Him for strength. And sometimes, when I take my eyes off Him and let doubt creep back in, worry still gets the best of me.
So here it is. I am afraid of bad things happening to the people I love. That's the truth. The heart of the matter. The Bible does not promise a life free from pain, trials, and suffering for the Christ-follower. In fact, we are promised that we will have trouble in this world. And that is precisely what I'm afraid of. I feel so much like the father of the demon-possessed boy in Mark 9 who told Jesus, "I believe. Help me overcome my unbelief." I know God can protect my loved ones, but I'm not sure He will.
When my dad passed away in December of 2012, my world was shaken. God was infinitely patient with my hurt, my doubts, my questions, my desperate attempts to understand why. I wrote about my journey toward healing in several blog posts beginning around that time period, if you haven't read them and would like to look back at them.
As I tried to process my dad's death and the suffering that came beforehand, I let Satan steal my song. I didn't want to sing. I love to sing, but I couldn't do it anymore, other than at church. Even then, I couldn't make it through a worship set without tears streaming down my face. Then, one evening, standing in my kitchen, God put the song 10,000 Reasons into my heart. And I started to sing. As I sang the line, "whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes," I was struck with a realization: This is not a plea for only good things to happen to me today so I will still feel like singing at the end of the day. This is a plea that, no matter what happens to me today, I will still choose to sing His praises, because He is worthy. Even when the hurt is so great I don't know if I can take any more, He is worthy. Because He gave everything for me.
Just as I thought I was reaching a place of healing, my mom was diagnosed with a rapidly progressing form of ALS and dementia. And this brings with it a whole new realm of fear. Of bad things happening to someone I love dearly. Feeding tubes and loss of communication. Weakening muscles and weakening mind. What does the future look like for her? What will we have to watch her go through, help her through? What if it's genetic (though we have been told it most likely is not)?
This weekend at our church services, I listened to a powerful testimony about overcoming fear. I sang the words, "I'm no longer a slave to fear. I am a child of God." And I knew. I have believed the lie that I will always be afraid. I've told myself that with God's help it doesn't have to control me, but it will always be there.
No. That doesn't have to be my story!
Today our pastor posted this on his Facebook page: "God will give you more than you can handle, so you will know only he can handle it."
Truth? I am afraid because I try to handle things on my own. I don't want anything bad to happen to the people I love because I don't trust God to be in it with them. I would rather He simply spare them the pain than grow them through it. And that is so very, very wrong.
So today as I spent the day with my mom, I read to her from the Psalms. I don't even know how much she understood, but I believe God blessed it and helped her wrap her mind around His Words to her. His promise. "The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer. My God is my rock, in whom I take refuge..."
It's the same fear I face with my children. And it's time to stop. Stop striving and just listen. This is what He is saying to me:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the Lord your God..."
-Isaiah 43:1b-3a
I have called you by name.
You are mine.
I will be with you.
This goes for the people you love, too.
Your mom who has ALS and dementia? She is mine.
Your children? They are mine.
Your husband? He is mine.
So stop. Stop fearing and let me be enough.
Let me pass through the waters with them, because only in the waters can they learn that I am all they will ever need.
Let me walk through the fire with them, because only in the fire can I refine them and make them into who I have designed them to be. I have begun a good work in them. Let me complete it.
I will never like it when sickness, disease, pain, or heartbreak come to the ones I love so dearly. But I do not have to be afraid of those things. God is enough, and He will see them through.
Only when we are brought to the point of desperation, of crying out, "God, I can't handle this!" can we see Him step up and handle it for us. Only then can we be released from the fear that has a hold on us.
This is new territory for me. I really don't know how to live without worry. But God is still writing my story. And He's making it a better story.
