Our safety in fear doesn’t depend upon our ability to remember. It’s not as though God comes to rescue us from our fears only when we think on Him. It’s not as though God stands off to the side, waiting for us to remember His promises, steadfast love, and faithfulness. It’s not as though the very act of remembering somehow causes God to move in our lives. Instead, remembering gives us peace and joy, opening our eyes to see what is already true. Remembering encourages us to hope in Christ.
It happens so fast. A brief thought, a whisper really, and before I know it, I’m all twisted in knots.
My husband mentions that for the next three months he’ll be out of town on business more than he is home. I look at the dates on the calendar and add them up in my head. My eyes zero in on the longest business trip of them all, and I feel a weight press down on me. I grow weary and exhausted as though I’ve just run a mile.
Thoughts nag at me: “It’s so long, and you’ll be so tired managing everything while he’s gone.”
“What if the kids have a hard week while he’s gone? You’ll have no support.”
“What if . . .”
“You can’t . . .”
“It’s too much . . .”
Before I know it, I am overwhelmed, anxious, and fearful of the future.
The Weight of Fear
It’s true—being home with the kids while my husband travels for work is not easy. It’s downright hard. It’s tiring. But those types of thoughts pull me under. They are cement blocks tied to my ankles, dragging me down, deeper and deeper, until I can’t breathe.
I know better. I know my mind’s tendency to take off and run while I stand there stunned. By the time I notice, it’s a lot of work to pull it back from the rabbit trails it followed. But knowing better doesn’t change how easy it is for me to follow this familiar fear pattern. My mind still tends to take off and run while I stand there stunned. By the time I notice I’m off and running, it’s a lot of work to pull it back from the rabbit trails it followed. The pattern is one I have repeated over and over in my life. My fearful responses to changing circumstances are as automatic as breathing. I slip on fear like my old college sweatshirt, the one that is soft from wear and fits like a comfy blanket. In some twisted way, fear is comfortable and normal and familiar.
But I also know that fear is the opposite of trust. It’s not a friend; it’s an enemy, one that keeps me from my Father. Fear lies to me. It tempts me to focus on myself. It hides me in a fog so that I can’t see the reality in front of me. It makes it difficult for me to believe God’s truth—the truth that He is always with me.
Fear and Forgetfulness
Fear feeds on forgetfulness. It thrives on our spiritual amnesia, our forgetting who God is and what He has done (2 Peter 1:9). We forget God’s faithfulness to us in the past. We forget His steadfast love, mercy, and grace.
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