Fear in a wheelbarrow.

There is a group of which I am a part, and have been, in fact, for over fifteen years. At times over the years I have heard their various sayings regarding fear; "fear and faith cannot coexist", "fear is the opposite of faith", "F.E.A.R. = Face Everything and Recover" or "F.E.A.R. = Forget Everything and Run." Cute sayings, and I've no doubt that they give hope to some, but I find myself questioning the substance behind them.

I have faith. I can look you straight in the eye and tell you that I believe. That I believe not just in who Jesus was, but in who He is today. You can strap me to a polygraph and ask me whether Jesus is my Savior, my Salvation, and I will not sweat the result, so confident in my answer I will be. When I pray at night I often close with the line "in the name of my precious Jesus, who would have still died on that cross if it were only me he could save", and this powerful truth brings me to tears more nights than not.

But still I am afraid. It causes me to question all the cute catchphrases by which I am supposed to live and take comfort. Because I think there is more, perhaps a piece of the puzzle that has been missed or discarded in our effort at broad and breezy appeal. I think if we go deeper, we come to the message of substance. The text below is credited to the book Alcoholics Anonymous and I think the words are as substantial tonight as they were at first publication in 1939.

From the Chapter, How It Works:

We trust infinite God rather than our finite selves. We are in the world to play the role He assigns.Just to the extent that we do as we think He would have us, and humbly rely upon Him, does He enable us to match calamity with serenity.

We never apologize to anyone for depending on our creator. We can laugh at those who think spirituality the way of weakness. Paradixically, it is the way of strength. The verdict of the ages is that faith means courage. All men of faith have courage. They trust their God. We never apologize for God. Instead, we let Him demonstrate, through us, what He can do. We ask him to remove our fear and direct our attention to what He would have us be. At once, we commenced to outgrow fear.

For me then, I think what all those cute slogans lack is action, pure and simple. I can talk about faith all day, and find nothing in that profession that spurs me to action, nothing that forces me to step out of who I am.

If we look at the paragraphs noted above we see that faith has been largely put to the side in favor of words like trust, dependance and reliance. These are strong words. Action words! And this, for me, is where the substance lies, and where my faith is finally put to the test. Do I merely believe, or do I trust?

Years ago, this difference was highlighted for me in stark terms by a friend named Bob in Las Vegas. Bob asked me to picture this, and I ask you to do the same. I am at the circus, enjoying the acts, and as the evening winds down, the big act is preparing his show. It is the tight rope act, one of the most dangerous and most anticipated acts of the Big Top. High above we watch the preparations, as the rope is checked for tightness, the tight rope walker checks his gear, from his clothing to his props, insuring that nothing has been left to chance. As his performance draws near, the final prop is wheeled over to the platform, a wheelbarrow, which will make the journey across with the walker.

As I sit safe below in my seat I marvel at what I see. I imagine the hundreds of hours of practice which must have gone into perfecting this act, the trial, the error, the injury that must have all been a part of the journey leading to this moment, he up high, me in my seat with absolute faith that he will make it safely to the other side. This is faith. My belief requires no action on my part, only the certainly that what I know is so is so. But what about trust? Well, if I had trust, I'd be up in that wheelbarrow wouldn't I?

But it's hard you guys! I want to trust. I want to be that guy running with reckless abandon to God, jumping in the wheelbarrow, and facing the unknown with the joy of a child and not the fear of an adult. I want to discuss how you guys manage this in your lives. I want to sit through seminars about how I am going to get in the wheelbarrow. I want to read lengthy and well documented books about how to get in the wheelbarrow. But I don't want to get in the wheelbarrow.

And to admit my greatest fear today, I don't want to put my four babies in that wheelbarrow. It scares me. I want to take control, tell the world that I know what's best here, and how I'm going to do it. Early on in my pregnancy, I sat down with an old and dear friend who leaned across the table, put her hand on mine and said with grace and love, "these babies don't belong to you, they are children of our LORD, and He will take care of them."

It's true. They aren't mine. I can do everything I can physically to keep them safe inside me as long as they are with me, but I can do no more. As always, I have a part to play and God has a part to play. I can't play His part and He won't play mine. So for my part I step away from the fear and place these four precious lives in the wheelbarrow, offering them to their Heavenly Father, knowing that His plan is always the best plan, whether I see it at the time or not. It's not easy though. The unknown rarely is. My prayer continues to be that I keep these babies safe inside me for a total of 32 weeks, while knowing all the while,

Your will LORD, not mine, be done.

Amen