What If Fear Isn’t a Liar?

The popular song drifts from the radio in my car and even my kids can sing it. The tune is catchy, the lyrics bold. These little people haven’t lived long enough to fully comprehend the girth behind the words, but they sing with grit just the same. 

He will rob your rest. Take your breath. Steal your happiness. 

This is true. We don’t have to accumulate many years, step very far, for that to resonate.

But there is something important in this lying-fear that is worth looking at it, worth sitting with, worth staring down. 

What if our fears have truth to tell?

What if our fears tell of what we love and what we value? Is it possible they speak to what we prize and prioritize, what we believe we can’t live with or live without? Our fear reveals the truth of what matters most to us.

• What matters most when our insides churn over the stack of bills and the bank balance?

• What are we valuing when our sleep is lost, our hearts heavy laden by decisions about our future? 

• What is becoming lord of our days, when fear for our health and the health of people we love begins to suffocate us? 

• What are we prizing when we become paralyzed – we bury our talent, our seemingly meager gifts, deep because we’re certain they aren’t good enough or, perhaps, as good as someone else’s?
  

While fear may whisper lies with clarity, it tells the truth just as clearly.

Fear reveals what defines our happiness. 

It points toward what brings us comfort and joy.

Fear tells where we find peace, identity, and hope.

It speaks of what we love, what we wish to control.

Fear reveals the idols of our heart.

This is starting to get uncomfortable, isn’t it? It’s easier to sing along with a gritty lyric paired with a strong melody than to search a little harder for the root of the weed seeded deep, comfortable almost. I know because I feel it too, friend. This is heavy-lifting. 

And this is why we need the Word as our daily bread to wash away the noise, to shine Light in the dark places of our hearts, and re-set our affections.

The fruit of the Spirit, the result of the Holy Spirit at work in us, is love, joy, peace – all the good that we’re seeking here. We so easily chase after it by other means, clamor to control it, but it’s an inside job no outside affections can satisfy. Seeking Him, we find it all. No more chasing. No more controlling. No more inputs and outputs to be better and do better, to have better kids, a more peaceful home and a thriving marriage. 

The Source of our courage moves from outcomes to the person of Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.

David speaks of this succinctly in Psalm 34. Don’t rush over this, friend. From David’s words upon his deliverance we can learn a bit of his theology.

I sought the Lord, and he answered me

    and delivered me from all my fears.

Those who look to him are radiant,

    and their faces shall never be ashamed.

This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him

    and saved him out of all his troubles.

The angel of the Lord encamps

    around those who fear him, and delivers them.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!

    Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!

Oh, fear the Lord, you his saints,

    for those who fear him have no lack!

The young lions suffer want and hunger;

    but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

Psalm 34:4-10 ESV

Trace the path of David’s words here. Where did he begin? (Back up and start at the beginning of Psalm 34 in your Bible if you have time. This is good work!) He began by seeking the Lord. The obliteration of his fear – real and present danger (read the back story in 1 Samuel 21) – was fear of the only One worthy.

His courage for a better battle plan, his freedom from shame, and desperation and lack, was a proper affection for Christ. In this Psalm David is overflowing with the Truth of who God is and he is calling out to anyone who will listen, “Come, O children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the Lord.” (v.11)

David’s fear pointed toward what He loved. His fear told of what captivated his heart, where his real affection stood. Caught in the dregs of what was legitimately scary, a life or death situation, David sought the Lord, turned his affection vertical and the Lord delivered him from every horizontal fear that was plaguing him.

Do you see it, friend?

We aren’t meant to be fearless here. But our fears tell a story. They speak loudly of what we believe to be true and what we believe to be worthy.

David, the man after God’s own, got off center at times. So do we. And when he did, he knew what to do about it. Can the same be said of us?

Fear may whisper doubt, it may create worry and false narratives that lead us stray. This is true. But it also points to what we believe, what we value and what regard in our heart.

May it be Him, friend. May every horizontal fear be replaced with a greater view of God. 

Refine us here, Lord. Shape our affections. Show us what we prize, what we value, what we worship, what we adore. Help us see all that we have ranked quietly in our hearts, knowing none of it is hidden from Your sight. Reveal to us what needs to be re-ordered, re-aligned with Truth. Help us fear You alone, God. Help us see You anew as sovereign, holy, worthy and close. Thank you for Your gentle correction, that You know our weakness intimately, and that we can draw near with confidence. You are holy and You love us immeasurably. Help us wrap our minds around that just a little more today and live from that Truth.

In Jesus’ name we pray,

Amen.