Fear Not

"Courage is not the absence of fear; rather, it is the judgment that something else is more important than our fear."

All my life, I've wished I were braver.

It's true! I have wished that I had courage to do things I saw other people doing. I wished I were not so cautious so I could go out and do crazy things with my friends without worrying about getting in trouble. I wished that I could say that funny thought I had in class loud enough to let people hear, and I wished more than anything that I could tell people what I really thought about them without worrying what they'd think of me.

In a recent conversation with my mother, though, she told me that she thought I was brave. "You've always put yourself out there," she told me. "You knew you could fail, but you tried anyway, and because of that you had experiences other people won't have." This came as a bit of a surprise to me, so I asked her for examples, and she talked for a good long while about some of the brave things I've done: trying out for school plays as a teenager, especially the time in seventh grade when I knew before the cast list was even announced that I wouldn't be getting the part, and how I'd handled that; running for student council against one of the sweetest, prettiest, most popular girls in my grade, and winning, impossibly; and other such events resulting in either failure or triumph, where despite anxiety and fear, I had decided to act.

In telling you these things I don't mean to brag about myself; on the contrary, I feel immediately to tell you that I really am nothing special, and for all these brave moments that I've experienced, it is a rare moment in which I actually feel brave. Most of the time, I feel incredible amounts of fear whenever I'm faced with one of these opportunities.

But let me tell you about something that happened to me that kind of taught me about fear and I.

I lived in Moncks Corner, South Carolina, which is, in my opinion, one of God's favorite places on earth. We were scheduled to teach a man who we'll call Rick, though that isn't his real name. About two hours before this lesson was supposed to happen, Rick texted us. "I've been drinking," he said. "Don't come over."

Now, Rick had told us all about his drinking habits, as well as his unequaled temper. When he sent that text, my automatic reaction was, "time to redo our plans."

But as I prayerfully considered who else we could see, something nagged at me. I still felt like we needed to go to Rick's house. In fact, I remember hearing a voice, a distinct voice, almost audible, that said, "Rick needs you."

I told my sweet companion (for those of you unfamiliar with missions, I spent 24/7 with this lady for five weeks and we went around talking about Jesus together), and she was understandably incredulous. "You wanna go over there and bother an unstable drunk guy?! You must be crazy!" She didn't say that, but I'll bet she was thinking it. Luckily, she was one of those people who understood me, and so when I insisted that we leave, she went with me without any complaints at all.

We got to Rick's house and said the customary prayer in the car before going in to the lesson. As we finished, I looked up to the porch to see Rick standing there with his arms folded. The feeling of foreboding increased, but inside the both of us there burned a little flame of comfort. We both knew we were supposed to be here. The ensuing conversation with Rick was one I'll never forget.

He came into the yard to meet us as we approached, his arms still folded. I gave him a small smile that he did not return.

"I told you not to come," he said, his expression unreadable.

"Yup," I said lamely.

"And yet, here you are," he continued, looking the both of us over. "Why?"

There was a long pause before I answered him. "Because God said you needed us."

And with that, this tough 58-year-old construction worker with scars on his knuckles began to cry in his front yard. He let us come in, where he sat with his mom, and told us about his day. We were able hear things from him that he needed to say, that he hadn't been able to say to anyone, but now he knew someone cared.

This experience taught me two very important lessons. The first, and obviously very important one, was that God is infinitely aware of all of His children. We were not the perfect missionaries; if you just read the story for what it's worth, we didn't do anything that extraordinary. We went to visit a drunk guy who told us not to come. But the Lord still saw fit to inspire us to go there to see His precious son.

The second thing I learned, and the thing I want to focus on, is that you can be absolutely terrified before you do the best thing you've ever done.

I know there is someone reading this who needs to hear these words. Just because you're scared doesn't mean it's not right.

So listen, dude. I'm talking to you right now. Tell that pretty girl you've been thinking about how you really feel and stop delaying it. Put on your Nikes and your sports bra and go running for the first time since '98 or whatever. Share your love; share your heart; share. Don't keep as much locked away as you usually do because you're scared of being a burden. You'll be surprised how much lighter it can make you to talk about things with someone who loves you. Let people see you for who you really are, and love people when they trust you enough to share that with you. Cheer someone on, tell them they're beautiful and they inspire you. Ask your significant other to marry you. Kiss somebody. I don't know, just take more risks!! Because I feel like I was so cautious with myself for so long, but I've found so much more happiness in giving myself away for the sake of those I love.

I know it's scary to sacrifice your personal comfort for someone else, but I promise you, you will find yourself in unforgettable situations the more that you do.

Remember the angel's words to those anticipating the coming of Christ. It is commandment, really, in two words: "Fear not." Make the choice not to give in to the fear, and oh what a place this could be.

Love,

Em