Fear is in the Eye of the Beholder
“We imagine a future, and our imaginings horrify us.”
- J. Robert Oppenheimer, during his construction of the first atomic bomb in World War II.
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Just as we battle suffering and sickness all our lives, so too will we wage war until our dying breath with the many sins that characterize not only our earthly pilgrimage, but our individual personalities as well. For example, a man who has struggled with anger will, to some degree, find that this particular temptation is quick to knock at the door of his heart more often, and more heartily, than other sins. In my case, when I was a young Christian, and particularly just after my father passed away, I consistently struggled with anxiety. You could say that it ‘came easily to me’. It was my ‘pet sin’, as it were; I hated it, but I felt that it was my burden to bear all the same. However, what lay at the bottom of this sin was just that - sin. It was an obstinate and consistent rejection, no matter how minute, of God’s love, faithfulness, and sovereignty over all things. I projected a future in my mind that was inconsistent with God’s character, and thus became fearful because of this reality, no matter how unrealistic it was.
I thank the Lord that, after many weary days and dreary nights, this sin is now dead and buried. Indeed, Christ has been busy at work on me since then, and He has taught me a thing or two about Himself along the road. However, this does not mean that the scars are gone, or that the well-worn trail that anxiety blazed in my mind has been completely overgrown. But this much I always remind myself of: I scarcely know what is best for myself, and I’d be wise to look to Him not only for what each new day will hold, but for every trillionth of a second in between. The war on anxiety may be won, but there is still a good deal of land left between us and home; and the enemy, though broken and scattered, still has his servants in place along the road.
Several years ago, I read an article titled “We Prophesy Grief, Not Grace” by Tim Challies. Tim made the case that we as humans have the tendency to project and imagine very specific things about our future; dreadful things that are informed by our fallen minds, not renewed minds informed by the Word. Tim goes on to say,
“I wonder if you have ever pondered the reality that much of our worry, much of our fear, much of our anxiety, comes from predicting the future. The ability to gaze forward in time is an essentially human trait. We have the ability to use our imaginations to see and to feel the future - to imagine that victory and feel the thrill of it, to visualize that loss and feel the sorrow of it. Our imaginations engage our emotions so we begin to weep or to rejoice over what has not yet come to pass and what may never come to pass.”
In the midst of a world that was in shambles during the development of the atomic bomb, Oppenheimer made a similar remark: “We imagine a future, and our imaginings horrify us.” We do the same. We take a sober look at how things are in the present moment, and from here we strive to imagine what the road ahead looks like, often going so far as to add bends, roots, ditches, ravines, and steep hills along the way. We take stabs in the dark and try to imagine some fictitious future state of our own lives that lurks only a week or two ahead of where we are currently stationed, or perhaps we are so bold as to extrapolate what the upcoming year itself might hold in store.
This future ‘lurks’ ahead because, quite simply, doesn’t this future that we make out for ourselves often seem overly pessimistic? We are slow to expect goodness and grace from God when it regards our future, and instead shower upon ourselves miseries and misfortune, though totally misplaced. We become grieved and anxious over a future that has not yet come to pass; indeed, one that will never come to pass. For, even if the things we are foreboding do in fact come to be, surely things will not unfold as we have prophesied. No matter how close to the mark our projections may be, we are not sticklers for the details like our Lord is. For, “we know that for those who love God all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28).
However, trusting in the Lord is easier said than done. Do we not organize our thought life so often upon the basis of some unknown and distant version of our future lives? Is this not the very essence of worry and anxiety: an ambiguous fear of the unknown, a pessimistic projection of our lives? A dreary future that seemingly dismisses all of God’s abundant past provisions and instead chooses to focus on the plethora of things we do not and simply cannot know or have control over? Rather than live by faith, we live by fear. With every new season of life, we are thrust into uncultivated land in which God's faithfulness must be proven all over again to our hearts and souls. On the upward and narrow road to Heaven, we are brought and taught through various seasons of life so that we might be all the wiser when the next season begins to dawn on our doorsteps.
There is, however, always a sense in which we must begin all over again, is there not? With each new road in life and its corresponding struggles we become convinced that our circumstances are so different from our past trials and triumphs that there is no possible way to remain untroubled. We so quickly forget God's past goodness, and begin to cast a shadow upon His kindness the very moment we find ourselves in a land we do not recognize. We are altogether too keen to thrust ourselves down this dark and deep rabbit hole of despair and what if. As Charles Spurgeon had said, “We are far too prone to write our trials in marble, and our blessings in the sand.”
But thanks be to the King of the universe that though our lives may change so very much, He does not change in the slightest. For Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forevermore. Christ's very immutability is the foundation upon which our fears, worries, and anxieties (and every other pet name you might choose to crown your doubts with) suddenly and unequivocally become bankrupt. They have no grounds. Our circumstances may change, but our God does not. Worry and fear is but a mist - it has no substance. We are squabbling over things that have not even come to pass, and even if they DO come to pass, we ought to remain steadfast and joyful knowing that these things have not come across the desk of our Lord's mind unseen and uncared for. Our struggles are not loose sheets of paper floating around His office, unorganized and unkept; if He cares for the sparrows and makes time for the least of these, be sure to know that He will keep you abundantly as well.
There is no need to worry, He is utterly faithful. Besides, what use can there possibly be in worrying, for how on earth will that begin to contribute to the solution of our problems? Shall our worry add an inch or two to our height? Or shall it change even a single hair from gray to black? That is why anxiety and worry is merely an orchestration of our own fallenness; it is within the eye of the beholder, a thing that we have construed out of their own minds, a thing wholly inconsistent with God and reality.
We are called to plan, instructed to be wise, and commanded to be good stewards over the things we have been given. However, we are also told to “fear not”; commanded to rather cast our cares upon our Father in Heaven who cares so deeply for us. Seek the Kingdom of God and His friendship above all, strive to apply obedience and Biblical principle to all you do and plan to do, and He will provide every moment of the way. This may not be in the way that we expect or project, but we will be taken care of all the same.
We are not called to know and foresee the future, that is God's prerogative. He will order and provide, and in the meantime you and I are called to be faithful and obedient. Do not worry about being faithful and obedient tomorrow or the day after, rather make that a reality on this very day: “But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matthew 6:33-34).
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“‘When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you take up?’ They said to him, ‘Twelve’. ‘And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you take up?’ And they said to him, ‘Seven’. And he said to them, ‘Do you not yet understand?’” (Mark 8:19-21).
What Jesus' disciples failed to understand, as I fail to fully understand every day, is that He provides for those who not only seek Him, but also for those who are bold and honest enough to depend upon Him not only for every day, but for every meal and every breath. The disciples were always under the shadow of Jesus, they served with Him and followed Him everywhere he went, and not once did He fail to meet their needs. In the first encounter with the multitude, Jesus fed a crowd of five thousand and after all the leftovers were gathered there were twelve baskets of food not eaten - twelve baskets, for twelve disciples. In another account, Jesus had fed four thousand men and women and once all was said and done, there remained seven baskets of leftovers and broken pieces for the disciples. Now, why seven? Well, the number seven is the Biblical number of fullness and perfection. In this way, the seven baskets of food leftover simply meant that, among all the sound and fury of Jesus' ministry, He ensured that His friends were not only fed, but fully and completely provided for.
We need not prophesy grief for ourselves or be overcome by fear. In doing so, we easily forget the heart of our Lord towards us. It is not an audacious thing to wait upon the Lord; it is what is expected and commanded of us. If we only understood our dire need and His utter dependability, we would never be caught waiting upon the doorstep of His love again.
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