The Color of Scared - First of Three in Seeking Spiritual Freedom from Fear

The Color of Scared - First of Three in Seeking Spiritual Freedom from Fear
Monday, October 3, 2022 by Cindy Sproles

Categories: Inspiration

It’s been a curse since childhood – fear. I’ve told my Bible study gals. My ministry partner knows it. I even told my friend who is a counselor. I’ve always been fearful.

Go figure. I never recall any horrible thing happening to me as a child. My family was good, loving, and caring. There was no abuse. No terrible skeletons in the closet (this could be considered a pun). Nobody jumped out from behind a door to scare me...oh...wait...there was this movie my Mom watched, that I remember.

She and her friend would go to the Saturday matinee occasionally. I remember, sitting on the floor of the theatre, tossing jack rocks in a cloth-lined box so they made no noise, then standing up and looking at the screen only to see a head roll down this long Gone-with-the-Wind-like spiral staircase. I gulped, hit the floor, and never raised my head again. I couldn’t sleep for days, though it felt like weeks or months. I dreaded nightfall, and let’s just say, I wasn’t crazy about storms or movies after that either. Bette Davis didn’t need a script like Texas Chainsaw Murder movie.”

I suppose I blame the beginning of my fear on that movie. I’ve never watched horror flicks, and Halloween was never, ever fun for me. When my husband and adult sons took me to Disney World’s Haunted Mansion (before Disney went to hell in a handbasket), I backed against the wall, then slid into a squat position so anyone who might want to grab me, couldn’t.

Whatever the reason, fear has always nipped at my heels. I credit myself and my faith with forging ahead and through whatever scares me, but that doesn’t prevent me from being afraid. It just means, I didn’t let it freeze me in my tracks. I hate roller coasters too, but I ride them with my husband and sons, because...well...I want to do it with my family. This doesn’t lessen the fact that they have to pry my white-knuckled fingers loose from the safety bar and then wait while I sob on a bench to regain my wits. In all fairness to my family, it can be somewhat humorous.

All this to say, fear lives in the closet of my heart.

I once had a friend ask me to put a color to my fear. I laughed hysterically and said, “I’m color blind.” That’s true. But if I were to put a realistic color to my fear, I would say blue. Not the soft blue of the sky, but the blackish, blue of deep water. So, why, you ask, this long historical process of my fear? Because, I had a well-meaning friend say some years ago, “You don’t trust God if you are afraid.”

I kinda cocked my head and thought about that. In fact, I carried it for a long time in my spiritual life, wondering if...could they be right? Did I not trust God? That scared me.

I believe the closer we draw to God in our personal relationship, the easier it is to see and hear Him when He speaks. And though for years, I allowed that well-meaning friend’s remark to “scare” me, I began to ask God to speak to me about my fear. Time after time, I’ve read scripture that encourages me to not be afraid, instead be courageous, God is with us, but I can’t honestly say that “saying” don’t be afraid, stops my fear. It doesn't. Nor does my fear drive me away from the Father. Instead, it drives me toward Him. I’ve learned my safe haven is in the arms of my God. He understands my fear and never once has the Almighty smacked me down for being afraid. But EVERY TIME, He has taken me by the hand and helped me forge through. Do I think God wants me to be afraid? Heavens no. I’m sure He’d prefer me not, but He uses my fear to draw me into His arms and help me through.

I’ve been spending time sorting through my spiritual life. Fine-tuning. Praying. TRUSTING. And when I am afraid, I lift my arms to heaven and remind God, that He knows my weaknesses and He’ll have to pull me through and show me what I can learn from the experience. Many times, my fears are more worry as opposed to shaking in my boots. It helps to take time in prayer and ask God to define what I am seeing. Clarity often helps me see the things that appeared bigger than life, were in fact, flakes.

My point is simple. Often in our Christian walk, we run across an experience that appears to be more than what it is. It’s easy to grow angry and blame God, easier to walk away from the arms we thought let us down, rather than stop and ask for clarity and peace – understanding. We miss so much when we believe that we are the only ones who hold answers, when picking apart our spiritual insecurities allows us to see the truth. God can work in tilled soil, even if there are a few clots to smash. But when the soil has hardened, then there is no room for Him to get in so He can work.

When well-meaning souls try to “fix” us with good intentions, and misguided spiritual advice, be like the Bereans. Question. Seek. Search the scripture. God will never fail to direct you to the clarity you need – even when you might be a little scared.

photo 1 courtesy of ambermb and pixabay.com

photo 2 courtesy of PhotoEnduro and pixabay.com

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Comments

Cathy Mayfield From Pennsylvania At 10/4/2022 6:13:09 AM

Fear fills my life. Trust is hard. I seek to trust God, but when He hasn't come through time after time, fear of "what if He doesn't" spins its fiery web across my heart. Movies, books, people - I've reason to fear. But I keep trying; how can I not? No other sees me, knows me, loves me like He does.