Fear

I'm not a big fan of fear. I really don't like scary movies or books. I don't like the dark (cause scary things can hide there) and wouldn't be caught within 100 yards of a haunted house. Considering all of that, it's surprising how often "afraid" is how I feel. It's not like I seek it out, afterall. But somehow, it seems to constantly creep in. And so often at the point when the last thing I want or need to be dealing with is fear.

I've spent the majority of today in near terror. Surprising considering I got a call from the Seminary to tell me I've been accepted and that all the information for me to register is on it's way here. Even MORE surprising considering I got a callback from the job interview I had yesterday, they want me up for a second interview (the final step in the process). And the final kicker, Zach had a second interview for the job he applied for at Bethel and it sounds like it went great! You would think, with all of that, I'd be bouncing off the walls with joy. But I'm not...I'm scared. I'm not even scared about either of those things. I'm scared about the 'what ifs'.

The only thought I've had for most of the day has been "what if' I mess it up". There it is, the core of the fear. "What if I mess it up". What if I mess up what God is doing. What if, in trying to do normal, mundane things that I think I'm "supposed" to do in order for us to move, I screw it all up. What if I break it so bad God just says "to heck with it, they're on their own!" or "She created this mess...she can get herself out of it!".

I try to remind myself that response sounds nothing like the God I know, who continues to show up. That God has lead us into this process, and that He's not going to just "dump us" and leave us to fend for ourselves. That He keeps orchestrating each step, once piece at a time. We needed a great renter and we got one, Zach needed a great job and its looking good for him to get one, I need a great job and, again, it's looking good. Even the money piece keeps falling into place. But as hard as I try to remember all those things, the fear so often seems to get the best of me.

And so I cry and try to remember that God is in this. That, as my incredibly wise counselor reminds me often, God isn't the author of fear, that it doesn't come from Him. That it, instead, comes from One who would like nothing better than to see me crippled by my fear, cowering and ineffective. And so I push on. Hoping beyond hope that, in the end, there is a God who doesn't know the meaning of "too messed up". That He's brought us this far and isn't about to quit now.

With those thoughts, I try to find my way to belief. Belief that it really will all be "ok". That God really does "have it". And, as I wade through the muck of fear, I hope and pray that someday soon belief will finally win out.