Fear that's not frightening

I, even I, am he who comforts you. Who are you that you fear mortal men, the sons of men, who are but grass, that you forget the LORD your Maker who stretched out the heavens and laid foundations of the earth(Isaiah51:12, 13a.)

As the death bell tolled renowned poet, John Donne, wrote furtively.

He too had been diagnosed with a death sentence, bubonic plague. With the tens of thousands in his community who lay dying Donne grappled with the haunting absence of goodness in great tragedy, “Where is God in suffering?” Donne composed his Devotions to sort through his own questions of Sovereignty and Compassion.

In the end he came to bottom—God gave no answer for the question “Why me?”’s of his heart, but Donne realized there were only two options--- he choose either to trust God or to abandon his faith.

It was at his faith’s watershed the poet prayed that God would teach his heart to fear Him,

"O most mighty God, and merciful God, God of all true sorrow and true joy too , of all fear and all hope too, as Thou hast given me a repentance, not to be repented of, so give me, O Lord, a fear, of which I may not be afraid.”

This kind of fear--- that is the fear of the Lord--- has been the theme of my week.

When the Holy Spirit is stretching my understanding of some truth, it seems like everything I read and hear is theme-related. Since Saturday I have been chewing on this topic. When I discovered Donne’s story in the book Reaching For the Invisible God, my reading selection this Monday, my heart instantly connected the poet’s recognition of his own hearts need to be enlarged to Saturday’s sermon.

The pastor taught from Mark 10:17-27, the story of The Rich Man, a biblical narrative I’ve always disliked until hearing this sermon

The rich young ruler comes to Jesus and asks him what he must do to inherit eternal life. The rich ruler explains that he’s kept all the rules. He has loved and followed the law all his life.

Jesus looks at him. Loves him. And raises the stakes.

“Sell everything and follow me.”

And the rich young ruler leaves brokenhearted because he simply can’t bring himself to part with his wealth.

It seems unfair.

Jesus own disciples took up for the rich man, “He was trying, doing a better job than us, if he isn’t good enough to be save; who can be?”

I have echoed this sentiment. If I were there with the disciples I too would take the rich young man’s side. He had tried all his life to be good enough for God, and it wasn’t enough.

The plight of the ruler whose face fell when he discovered that Jesus would demand everything struck a chord in my heart. I too had tried all my life to be good enough for my dad and it wasn’t enough. “Doesn’t effort count for anything?” my spirit would question, “God are you like my dad? Can me trying to follow be enough for you?”

I know as an American I am rich. So often I feel like I am not doing enough. I sponsor a 3 yr old little girl in Haiti. Is it enough? I give to missions. Is it enough? I give to the Church. Is it enough? I spend my life serving women with disabilities. Is it enough? I love my husband as much as I know how. Is it enough?

Am I enough?

And the answer is “No” I know I don’t belong wholly to God. Anorexic has hooked claws of anxiety in to places in my heart even I cannot touch. Daily my best efforts at holiness fall dismally short. Time and again I am too-afraid to love; too-afraid to even make eye contact.

Facing the truth about my efforts to be fabulous always leaves a bad taste in my mouth—like a crushed Tylenol mixed with applesauce.

Because of the “yucky” feelings created by my interpretation of how Jesus interacts with this seeker, year after year when I came to this story in my Bible reading plan I would rush through it and check it off my list. It was to me medicine that tastes so bad you stick the spoon way back in your mouth and try to bypass the tongue as you swallow it quickly. I had never lingered in the story to taste the flavors.

But on Saturday the pastor drew attention to a verse I had always glossed over: “ Jesus looked at him and loved him- Mark 10:21a”


The pastor paused here, and grudgingly I paused with him. He started to explain how Jesus really felt compassion for this man, how Jesus wanted to show him the way to know God. The pastors voice faded farther and farther away as the truth of my condition before Jesus weighed heavy again on my heart. I abandoned my body to the pew and went into the pictures flooding my mind. I found myself imagining me as the young ruler before Jesus. Making my case before the Incarnate Creator,

“Jesus I know I still haven’t sold out. I am just so duplicitous. A part of me loves you and a part of me loves the pursuit of perfection. I feel like I will never beat the dark Sarah who tries to fill the needs of her heart by being thin. She believes that by keeping all the rules someday she will be good enough. She hangs onto a beauty that is causing her heart so much anxiety because she needs people to like her for her body. She is addicted to approval. I have tried explaining to her that I don’t want this thinness anymore, but she will not surrender her territory. Can’t you see how hard I am trying? Can’t my trying be enough?”

And for the first time I saw the Lord watch my anxious entreaty and his eyes were full of love.

“He loves me?” I thought, “He loves me still.”

I had never realized how passionately God longed for this man to know him. This is the way Jesus loves. It is hard medicine for a perfectionist to be loved as she is, but if she will allow love to dissolve on her tongue it is actually sweet to taste. It is scary territory for a girl-not-good enough to be asked to leave the land of shallow-acceptance by culture, but it is the way to freedom. The only way.

Realizing my not-enoughness again, I wanted this time to be different. I didn’t want to leave the Presence of Jesus face fallen, feeling sad. I thought about how fear holds me captive to fragments of an eating disorder and social isolation. I thought about how even as I look into the eyes of Christ I could feel the pull of fear—telling me that if I sell-out and follow Christ my heart would not be able to handle all that gaining weight represents to me [surrendering control, facing rejection, experiencing abandonment.] I fear abandonment more than I fear the Lord, and some days I fear that this fear-wound in me will end up being the very reason He abandons me.

This is what connect my fearful heart Donne’s prayer--- my lips whisper the prayer, my spirit echoes:
“Give me also, O Lord, a fear, of which I may not be afraid.”

Me too. I need a fear of which I need not be afraid. This is what I’m praying towards. I am memorizing lines from the admonition the Lord spoke to his people through the prophet Isaiah—and repeating there truths to myself when I find anxiety is near my heart:

I, even I, am he who comforts you. Who are you that you fear mortal men, the sons of men, who are but grass, that you forget the LORD your Maker who stretched out the heavens and laid foundations of the earth(Isaiah51:12, 13a.)

I don’t know what else to do. I keep praying the Josiah-prayer: “God we don’t know what to do, but our eyes are on you."Somehow I hope if I learn to fix my gaze towards Him—the anxieties which today distract and enslave my mind will slowly fade and disappear. Please pray for me on this one.