I've never done something like this before, but I feel as though the conclusions reached in my last post (Anger in the Eyeglass) could use a bit of clarification—not as far as anger goes, for I think I covered my thoughts on that pretty completely. But there was another emotion that I mentioned repeatedly in my discussion; it lent considerably to my points but was, I regret, dealt with far too casually. This emotion, which I now aim to discuss more diligently, is fear.
I believe my last post explained well that emotions are responses to our perceptions of reality. In light of this, we can come to a pretty adequate definition of fear (as if one were needed—we know it so well!). Fear is that worrying terror, that agonizing and uncontrollable uneasiness that we feel when we perceive something frightening or uncertain, threatening or unexpected. In his book, Fearless, Max Lucado defines it this way: "Fear, at its center, is a perceived loss of control." I think he's right. Fear is that shaky feeling that tells us there's something out there that stretches beyond our own expertise.
With this definition in mind, I think we can begin to deal more appropriately with this powerful emotion.
Now, allow me to do something a bit unconventional. (Yes, I'm sure you're right. Most of what I do does tend to fall under the vast reaches of that word. Bear with me.) I'd like to share my conclusion with you, bluntly and without context, before I explain my reasoning. I want to do this mostly because I feel that, if we were having a conversation about this face-to-face (such things do still exist, by the way), that's how it would come about. Also, I think this conclusion is pretty necessary for you to see how the points I will make actually relate to one another. So, here you go:
Like any emotion, fear tells us something about the world as we perceive it, but I am convinced that no case exists in which fear is telling us that we are perceiving the world rightly.
There, I said it. Now, if you would, join me in reasoning through this.
First off, let us examine what it is that we can possibly fear. What reality exists that we can perceive and respond to fearfully? I think, to classify broadly, that there are two essential categories of things we might fear: creation itself and the Creator who made it. And if we really boil this down, it seems much more logical to fear the One on whom all creation depends for its existence than it is to fear that creation. Because the Creator rules over His creation, if we're going to be fearing anything, we'd best be fearing Him.
This idea is mentioned quite often in Scripture. The command to fear God is definitely common (see Deuteronomy 5:23-29, 10:12-13 and I Peter 1:17, 2:17 for just a few examples). The command to not fear other things is probably even more common (see Moses' command to the Israelites in Deuteronomy 31:6 and to Joshua in 31:8 [cf. Joshua 1:6-9] and the confidence expressed in Hebrews 13:6).
Jesus Himself even seems to make this point. In sending out His disciples in Luke 12, He argues that the fear of men should not be a concern in light of the fact that God is over all. In His words, "I tell you, my friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body and after that can do no more. But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear him who, after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him" (vv. 4-5, NIV 1984).
He seems pretty frightening, doesn't He? An omnipotent God standing up there with His long beard and longer staff, dictating His sovereign will and punishing any who refuse to comply?
But don't get carried away with this picture. This isn't God at all. How do I know? Well, Scripture is pretty clear on that point. And, Jesus wasn't finished. Read Luke 12:6-7 (which comes, if you'll notice, right after verses 4-5): "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows" (NIV 1984).
So, in total, what do we have here? Jesus has given two commands: Fear God, and do not be afraid. They're not contradictory. Rather, they form the inexplicably beautiful paradox that surrounds the relationship between the human and the divine.
You see, there is good reason to fear God, to tremble with terror before Him. The Israelites sure did (Exodus 20:18-19)! An all-powerful Being beyond our control is a scary thought, and reverence for and humility before this omnipotent King is an absolute necessity. But what the Israelites learned, what Jesus is saying, and what we need to hear today is that trembling before God isn't the end of the picture. Yes, we must respect Him. Yes, we must realize how great He is. But the fullness of His identity also involves the truth implied by Christ's second command: that this all-powerful King has lavished immeasurable grace on His people, that they might know Him and truly not fear. How does this work? It works because this God loves.
But, wait. It gets better than that—for two reasons.
1. Note that the concept of God's love seems to have two facets in Jesus' discussion in Luke 12 (and, really, in the rest of Scripture). First, God intimately knows that which He is loving. He knows the sparrows; He numbers even the hairs on the heads of His people. He knows everything about us—even better than we know ourselves. We shudder sometimes to think of that. But let your heart rest, for this second part is also true: In His knowledge of us, He considers us worth loving. We're "worth more than many sparrows." It's an understatement. He created us—so carefully—into His image, using every bit of His creativity in fashioning us—each one of us—exactly as He wanted us to be. He doesn't "love" us out of pity or something. No one loves like that because that's not what love is. He looks at us—He never takes His eyes off of us, actually—and says, "Child, you're worth loving." And the scars on His hands prove it. Are we messy? Yes. Undeserving? Oh, yeah. Yet, by His assessment, we are worth loving.
2. The picture gets even more beautiful when we realize that God doesn't just love—He is love. This is true because of the truth of the Trinity. (For more on this, pick up Frank Macchia's The Trinity, Practically Speaking; it's life-changing.) The Trinity means that God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—a circle of perfect love that has existed from all eternity. In His self-relation, God loves; therefore, in His nature, He is love. And the beauty of the Gospel message—and, really, of all of Scripture (even the Old Testament!)—is that this God who is love has opened His arms to include us in that love. We are welcomed into His circle of love, and there is nothing that can separate us from it (Romans 8:38-39).
I think there's no better way to wrap all this back around than to turn to I John 4. What do we see? God loves us (vv. 9-10), "God is love" (vv. 8, 16), and "perfect love drives out fear" (v. 18).
Do you get it, friend? Do you see? God reigns, and God loves. This is reality, and, in this reality, fear is only a signal that we've lost focus, that we've adopted an eyeglass that doesn't match up with the way the world really is. God reigns, and God loves. Nothing can happen to us apart from His loving plan. We have nothing to fear.
Why? Because we've been given a new eyeglass and a new name. By God's grace, we've been given a gift that is beyond comprehension. "For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father.' The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children" (Romans 8:15-16, NIV 1984).
God's children. Sons and daughters of a Father who loves perfectly. Can you believe it? His love is one so great that it "surpasses knowledge" (Ephesians 3:16-19), and, again, it's a love from which we can never be separated (Romans 8:38-39). Really and truly, this love "drives out fear" (I John 4:18).
All in all, Christ's work leaves us with the beautifully overwhelming truth that we are loved unconditionally and perfectly by the God whose strong arms are holding and guiding all the world. This love is the ink with which He writes the grand story of that world and the stories of our individual lives.
When we really "get" this—when we look at the world through eyes transformed by the truth of His lordship and love—fear dissipates. Peace reigns. And this, my friends, is the proper eyeglass. It is an eyeglass without fear.
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