The fear I'm concerned about today about is different. It's not a good thing.
Fear, how do I fear thee? Let me count the ways.
I've never been a good salesman, for fear of, well, failing.
I've missed all manner of opportunities, including jobs, making friends, experiencing new things for fear of discomfort, of looking foolish, of being alone.
And I've chosen the safe, well-traveled route rather than the road less-taken for fear of the unknown.
Basically, I've done all those things because I feared failure.
What if I get lost, rejected, turned down, ignored, humiliated, yelled at, found out to be the unqualified, inept klutz that I really am?
There was a time when I feared God, my parents, the future, the church, you name it.
Fear can paralyze, and fear of failure is at the root of so many fears and failures. Ironically. Yes, you can fail because you are afraid of failing.
Psalm 34 is one Scripture passage that talks about the kind of fear I am talking about.
"I sought the Lord, and he answered me,
delivered me from all my fears.
Look to him and be radiant,
and your faces may not blush for shame.
This poor one cried out and the Lord heard,
from all his distress he saved him.
The angels of the Lord encamps around
those who fear him, and he saves them."
I experienced this.
In my life, I have encountered such fear and it has gripped me on many levels.
Although I was raised Catholic as a young child, I had lived much of my young adult life in fear, and it kept me from realizing my potential, in my career, but more importantly in my personal life and relationships. And for all of that time, I also lived without attending church, without recognizing, acknowledging or appreciating the presence of God in my life or in the world around me.
I caught glimpses of God during that time. I recall a woman who was a coworker at a now-defunct department store. Some people make me uncomfortable with the way they constantly trumpet their Christianity, verbally anyhow, but this woman, a devout Christian (I never knew what denomination), lived her faith rather than try to convince everyone else of it. And at a time when my husband and I were raising two very young boys and had decided we should attend a church with them, somewhere, a few things happened in rapid succession that brought me back where I belonged, to the Catholic Church.
During that whole desert period when I had no anchor, no church, no conscious faith, I had often referred to myself as a former Catholic, but I really had no idea that once gone, you could go back. Then my husband's uncle died. Uncle Eddie lived near Wilmington, and we went dutifully to his funeral, which was held at St. John the Beloved parish. It was, it turned out, my husband's very first time ever entering a Catholic church. When we came out, I realized how little he knew when he asked me if the "R" in "RC Church" on the sign in front stood for "royal." But he was quite taken with it, and not long after that, I got a new job at the local newspaper. The person I was replacing was an older woman who was retiring, and she, it turned out, was a Catholic who attended St. Francis de Sales, my former parish (the only one in my hometown, actually). She was another one of those people who just lived her faith in such a special way that you were drawn to her, to the peace that surrounded her like an aura.
She told me that there was a program for people who wanted to join the church. So I wrote a letter to the pastor inquiring. I got no response. But then, month or two later, we saw a small ad in the newspaper that said a meeting would be held on a certain evening for anyone interested in learning more about the Catholic faith. We went to that meeting. We were the only people who showed up for that meeting, actually.
We went through the process, called RCIA, for two years before we were finally accepted as full, functioning members of the church. That was in 1992. That same year, two years after the fact, the pastor (our pastor now) apologized because he had just found our letter of inquiry under a pile of papers on his desk. We all make mistakes.
It wasn't long after we started in that process that things started changing for me. I stopped always worrying about what others thought of me. I even stopped worrying about me to a large extent, period. My telephone manner at work improved, because instead of bracing to be yelled at for something that wasn't my fault, I found I could listen better to the caller and sincerely try to figure out how to help. I had a deeper desire to help others in all aspects of life. Previously, I had feared to offer help for fear of ... yep, failure. What if I cooked something for a guest and it wasn't good? What if I offered to help with something and then couldn't deliver?
But gradually, those fears evaporated. And so I was saved from my fears, and I know it was my growing faith that pushed away those fears.
We all deal with fears in different ways, and we all conduct our relationships with God in different ways. I do not, at this point in my life, spend a lot of time alone in quiet prayer. I like to try to do that during Lent, but this blog has been my best shot at that. It makes me think about things, and I can only write this when I'm alone and the house is quiet.
I used to feel bad about it, but now I realize that I am in a different kind of relationship with God. I know he is near, I can sense his presence when I am paying attention. I am so much less afraid these days, I am living life in a richer way as a result.
One of my favorite hymns is "Hosea." It is so welcoming, so forgiving, so comforting. "Come back to me, with all your heart. Don't let fear keep us apart." How many relationships have you allowed fear to tear apart? "Long have I waited for your coming back to me and living deeply our new life." Mending relationships with others helps us overcome fear of failure, and it also helps us mend our relationship with God. Leave your gift at the altar, God said, and set things right with your brother.
And don't let fear stop you. No matter the outcome, making a sincere effort is not failure. So pray, and when you feel sincerely ready, go. You will not fail.
Peace,
Susan
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