Only Fear

On Saturday, March 4, 1933 Franklin D. Roosevelt stepped up to a microphone to give his first inaugural address as president of the United States. Roosevelt and the country he addressed were facing the deepest and most brutal days of the Great Depression. The bright optimism of the Roaring Twenties had surrender to the hopeless despondency of the 1930’s.  So many had lost so much. Poverty was a prevailing force. Millions went to bed hungry at night. Parents watched helplessly as the life they had built for their family eroded away.

In the introduction to FDR’s first address to the people of this beleaguered nation he spoke these now familiar words:

So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.

The president eloquently reminded his people that the true enemy was not the economic upheaval of the depression, but incapacitating plague of fear. He reminded them that the greatest difficulties they faced were “only material things.” The speech challenged the citizens to face their fears and remove the shackles of anxiety that held them captive.

Roosevelt’s words remain compelling and poignant today. Victory is available to each of us. Fear is just an emotion. It can obstruct our vision of reality. It can strangle us as we try to breathe. It can trample our hearts. It can paralyze us with inactivity. It can steal our faith. But it is, nonetheless, just an emotion. 

There is something incredibly powerful about facing your greatest fear, . . looking straight into the face of the terror, the pain and saying “You do not own me!”  “I am not defined by you!” Hope becomes something much greater than just life and its circumstances. Facing your fear, your greatest loss, and yet finding life brings eternity to the present. The sense of strength is amazing. The ability to be selfless becomes unbound by the chains of risk that keep us from experiencing life. Courage seems to become a reality.

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. 1 John 4.18

The Least of These

You have to prepare yourself to visit the special needs orphanage in Roman, Bulgaria. To arrive unprepared might leave you a bit overwhelmed. First, you have to discard ideas you might have about cleanliness.  Your first reaction may not be that you just can’t wait to hug these kids. I mean they are bathed regularly, but by the time you meet them their hands may be dirty and their faces might be covered in dried snot. The smells are not pleasant. At best they smell like kids who have played outside for a long time, at other times more sinister odors emerge. One of the teenagers with which I interacted had had a bowel movement which remained unattended. If you don’t prepare yourself, you won’t be ready.

You have to prepare yourself to know that you may not get lots of warm fuzzy feelings from being with these kids. They can easily overwhelm your emotions and sensitivities. Some will mob you and demand your attention. Others will remain withdrawn. Some want to talk to you. Others can’t speak at all. Some play well together. Others are obvious bullies. Some have elements of cuteness. Others, well to be honest, part of you wants to look away. You have to realize, it is not really about you at all. If you don’t come to grips with that fact, you have come to the wrong place.

You have to prepare yourself not to judge the broken exterior of the buildings and the mismatched and poor fitting clothes. It is what it is. Those in charge do a lot with a little. Your place is not to bring change. Instead, do your best to empower the Bulgarians who are there to help. Don’t forget that you are the foreigner. But you can love them. You can bring them joy. You can be in their lives for a little while.

You will try to play with them. Games don’t usually last long before interest is lost or another one comes in and steals the ball. Some have amazing basketball skills in spite of the fact that their shots could not appear more awkward. You will get to help some draw. You will be the one do the drawing for others who can’t make their brains and hands work together to make a picture. You will be amazed as some, who can’t seem to do much else, sit down and quickly create a beautiful sketch.

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. “The least of these.” Surely Jesus had these children in mind when he said those words. I think we make it to complicated sometimes. All we have to do is to love and sometimes just be there for the least of these. Who are the least of these in your life?

Liar, Liar

What would you do if you discovered that a person very close to you was a liar; that they, on a very regular basis, led you to believe things that were either slanted or utterly false. This person has been lying to you for many years about a variety of different things. In fact, I can identify this deceiver in your midst . . . its you. No one lies to us more than we do ourselves. We routinely invite fraud into our souls. Many times it becomes such a part of us that we can’t even recognize it anymore. In fact, we actively and sometimes aggressively defend our fabrications because we are afraid of the truth.

In his book on humanity’s ability to adopt self-deception, Robert Trivers identified three areas where we indulge ourselves by clutching to fantasy.* First, we actively work to both create and suppress memories. Time and time again we re-interpret the past to protect ourselves from pain and elevate our self-image. The Good Ole Days  weren’t as good as we remember. We make heroes out of villains, and villains out of heroes to fit our  own desired storyline. Painful memories can be buried deeply so that we don’t have to deal with their place and effect in our lives.

Second, we allow ourselves to believe lies to rationalize immoral behavior. “Few variables are as important in our lives as our perceived moral status. Even more than attractiveness and competence, degree of morality is a variable of considerable importance in determining our value to others—thus it is easily subject to deceit and self-deception.”* In short, we turn a deaf ear to truth to make ourselves feel as if we have acted rightly. We routinely can condemn actions in others which we ignore or justify in ourselves. When someone cuts me off in traffic they are a jerk. When I do it, I am just driving aggressively. Whole systems of moral code are adopted that tend to excuse our own transgressions while condemning others. We degenerate morality into a set of rules (law) when Jesus said that the one rule (law) that defines morality is love. Even now as you read, you can see this moral justification in others, but are you willing to recognize it  it in your own life. (I speaking to myself here too.)

Third, we deceive ourselves in order to boost our own self image. We tend to reinterpret the facts to make us feel better about ourselves. I have told everyone for many years that I am 5’7” (170cm) tall. This may not seem to you like something to boast about, but for me I claim it. The truth is I am a little under 5’6 1/2” (169cm). My mathematical brain knows that I should round down to 5’6”, but many years ago I reinvented the truth to make me claim 5’7”. And I have been believing that lie ever since. The truth is that we all deceive ourselves in much more insidious and destructive ways because we don’t want to believe the truth about who we really are and what we have really done.

The harm of all of this self-deception is that we use it to avoid the real problems in our lives. I do not have to deal with my own pain and struggle if I am able to cover them up with with a blanket of pretense. But if we fail to cope with the real brokeness within each of us, we never heal and we never become who we could be. Don’t be afraid of the truth you have been denying.

Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. - Jesus


*Robert Trivers, The Folly of Fools: The Logic of Deceit and Self-Deception in Human Life.  All quotes in this blog entry are from that book. This work is an interpretation of decades of studies about how humans interact with deception.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

I don’t usually like scary movies. On the rare occasion when I do watch one, just when the plot turns to terror and my heart starts to race, my mind speaks, “it is just a movie.” “Oh yeah,” my heart says and I make the boring intellectual decision not to be afraid.

I do like M. Night Shyamalan’s movies.  One reason is that I just like saying his last name, “Shymanahanalana. . . .,” I never get it right. But more than that, I like them because the end is often such a surprise. I mean who knew Bruce Willis was dead until the very end. Plus his movies aren’t just about blood and gore, and horror. They usually really make me think. One of my favorites is The Village. This movie is the story of a 18th century village in the middle of the American woods which is isolated from the rest of the world by a monster who lives beyond the boundaries of the village. The monster looks sort of like a cross between the big bad wolf and a porcupine with boney fingers and a red cape. He remains outside of the village as long as its residents behave and follow the rules. The plot thickens as one villager steps out of line and the monster enters the camp. Sorry to give a way the suspense, but in the end the monster turns out just to be a man dressed up to keep the villagers from wandering away and discovering the world.

As I think about the monster I am driven to one tragic fact about our humanity: we are afraid of each other.  Rarely do we fear physical harm, but we are terrified none the less. We are afraid of what others think and how they will react to us. Will they accept or reject us? What if they don’t value me? And this fear keeps us from leading better lives.

An example from my own life quickly comes to mind. A few days ago I had to call a Bulgarian man about keeping our dog for a few days. Understanding Bulgarian is hardest over the phone and I had been told that this man was particularly difficult to comprehend. So I dreaded calling him. I put it off for two whole days. In the end I survived the phone call and we communicated perfectly well. It was even pleasant.

The real question on my heart is “Why?” Why was I anxious about talking to this person? He had no real power over me. What was the worse thing that could have happened? Did it really matter if I didn’t get all the verb forms right? So what if I had to ask him to repeat himself more slowly? But I let my fear control my actions for two days.

I don’t think I am alone in my trepidation. As I look at those around me, my family, my friends, my students, I recognize how often we are shackled by the fear of rejection from others. Sometimes we are so self-centered that we act as if the sole reason for others’ existence is to judge us. And that terrifies us.

I was having a philosophical conversation a few days ago with my oldest son Luke. I asked him why he thought we humans were so afraid of what others thought of us. He answered, “Because we don’t see enough value in ourselves so we look to others to give us that sense of value. If we could constantly recognize our own self-worth then the opinion of others wouldn’t scare us.” Smart guy!

I challenge you to take Luke’s words and use them as a lens for your own heart. How does your own self-understanding impact how you see others? How does your fear keep you from being free? What if the terrifying monster you most fear is just a person dressed in a scary suit?

Out of Control

What is it that you really control? Think about it. But before you let your list get too long, I challenge you to look deeply and with painful honesty. Perhaps ask the question this way, “what is there in your life that cannot be lost?” If it can be lost, do you really control it?

As humans we work very hard to establish a wall of security about ourselves. We deceive ourselves into thinking that we can control the things that happen in our lives.  If we plan hard enough and work hard enough then we can determine our own destiny.

This tendency shows itself over and over again. As nations, we build huge militaries to keep others from enforcing their will on us. Money is valuable to us because it provides an avenue of control. With it we do as we wish. We use it to build a fence to protect us from economic insecurity. But neither military or money provide any real guarantees. Good people sometimes loose everything.

Although we might like to think differently, relationships are not blessed with complete surety either. Death is promised to all relationships and its timing is beyond our choosing. As parents we do our best, but sometimes children go wayward. No matter what we want to believe, marriages sometimes inexplicably end.

I believe that one of the greatest terrors we humans share is the fear of loss of control. Those of us from America are particularly afraid because we actually have known a great deal of sovereignty. Since the founding of the nation, no foreign power has ever invaded. What is the American dream except the belief that if you make the right decisions and have enough discipline then you can order your own life? I am not trying to devalue this idea, only to point out that in the history of humanity self-governance and freedom are very rare.

Take my neighbors here in Bulgaria for an example. They have a much different view of control. Their government is not big and powerful. In fact, throughout almost all of their history someone else ruled them. Someone else made the laws and told them what they could and couldn’t do, where they could and couldn’t live, who would live and who would die. Even now as a democracy the problem continues. Bulgarians are very intelligent and well educated. But a student here can work very hard in university, make the best grades, and still have little opportunity to find a good job here. Hard work and determination are just not guarantees. Life isn’t fair.

So here is the question: does our fear of losing control actually control us? Does the fear of loss keep you from being who you should be? Are you afraid to risk pursuing a more meaningful life because you might loose your security? Are you content to be a bystander because stepping out of line and joining the race might mean you surrender your self-rule?

For followers of Christ this desire to control our own destinies has one big problem: it is the antithesis of faith. Over and over the biblical story is one of calling people away from safe and controlled lives. Faith is the surrendering of ourselves, our resources, our relationships to one who created all. Christ provides the perfect example.

Philippians 2
6 Who, being in very nature God, 

  did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; 

7 rather, he made himself nothing 

  by taking the very nature of a servant, 

  being made in human likeness.
8 And being found in appearance as a man, 
 
  he humbled himself 

  by becoming obedient to death— 
     
  even death on a cross!

Perhaps true freedom is not found by clutching to the facade of control, but by actually letting go.


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What Are You Afraid Of?

I can still see her face. A chill runs down my spine as I recall how those beady eyes stared at me through the darkness. It was if they could sense the panic in my soul. But it was her nose that dominated her appearance; oversized and crooked, it made her seem as if she had come from another world, another place where evil flourished. I don’t know how she had managed to invade my world that night. But there she was, shattering my peaceful existence. All I could do was just lie there in terror and wait. Would she make her move? I knew I could put a stop to her devilish domination of the night. I knew I could. But did I dare?

I was nine. I fought this horrendous battle with the dark over a period of a few months whenever I would wake up in the middle of the night and realize that I had left my closet door opened. Something about the shapes inside looked so much like a witch to my young eyes. I was old enough to know that she was not real, but the fear controlled me. The battle raged until one night I mustered my courage and did something utterly profound . . . I got up and shut the closet door. That simple act of bravery freed me from the witch's dominion. I felt strong and victorious. I felt proud. I felt a little less like a child and a little more like a man.

I am reading a Donald Miller book right now about how he helped write the screenplay for a movie based on his other book, Blue Like Jazz. He points our that the stories most of us live are really boring.  Deep down we dream of greatness, but the thing we really work towards is mediocrity. We invest a great amount of time and effort to be status quo. Why don’t we live bolder lives? Why don’t we hear God’s call to be extraordinary lovers of life and others? I think part of the answer is very simple: we are afraid. Just like my nine year old self, we are paralyzed by the unknown and uncontrolled in life.

Certainly fear is a natural and important part of our souls. Fear keeps us from harm. But so often fear changes from being a innate tool of protection to become an underlying definition of our identity. It becomes such a part of our condition that we don’t even recognize it as such. We fail to be great because we just want to be safe.

I challenge you to ask yourself the following question: “What am I afraid of?” Before you respond too quickly, stop and really think. This is not a question that can be answered easily. It is a journey within ourselves. It takes us beyond our outer facades into the core of who we are. It is a journey that will perhaps take us where we do not expect.

I believe that God calls all of us to lead extraordinary lives. Lives of extraordinary involvement, extraordinary love, extraordinary sacrifice, extraordinary joy. So often our fears are the leash that restrains us from the extraordinary.  But truly dealing with our cowardice can lead us to unknown freedom.

So what is the witch in your closet? That is your homework.

Red Double-Decker Tour Bus

I was sitting in a coffee shop in Budapest, Hungary doing one of my favorite activities,  . . . just sitting. I had brought my oldest daughter, Hannah, there to visit a friend and I used the time to goof around the city.  One of the advantages of living in Europe is that places like this are close by. I was reading John Eldredge’s book entitled Desire as I sipped my cappuccino. The book is of the kind that makes you think.  So I would read and stare off in space trying appear to be intellectual and deep in thought. I put the earpiece of my glasses in the corner of my mouth. I think that made me truly look like a philosophical academic type. And I was just watching all the people of all sorts and nationalities go by. Yes, it was all very good time: sitting, reading, trying to look intelligent, watching people.

As I was watching people a big red double-decker tourist bus drove by the coffee shop and down past the beautiful gothic church across the street that is now a museum. The bus was full of sightseers gawking out of the windows and pointing at all the amazing things to see. I was struck by almost a sadness for the people in the bus. “Really,” I thought, “you have spent who knows how much money to come to this breathtaking city and you're gonna to experience it from the seat of a big red bus.” I understood the draw of the bus. My feet were aching from two days of treking all over those cobblestone streets and climbing all those stairs. And I realized that the bus stops at the important places so the people could file out and take pictures. But I couldn’t help but feel like all the people on the bus were missing something.  I wondered if staring out the windows from the comfortable bus seats was that much different than watching a documentary on Budapest on their big screen TV’s at home. The bus just seemed so safe, and easy, and sterile. Think of the things their comfort cost them. They didn’t hear the many musicians playing on the street. They didn’t smell the food coming from the street side cafes. They didn’t look into the faces of the 1000’s of people they passed. They avoided the discomfort of the beggars whose faces betrayed painful lives and intruded into mine to ask for money. They didn’t hear the children playing in the squares.  They didn’t smell the garbage or have to step over the vomit left by the previous night’s revelers. They weren’t constantly bombarded by a multitude of languages.

I wondered if their Budapest experience was somehow less real than mine. How much had their security and comfort cost them in truly experiencing life. I realized how easy it is for us to make that same trade all the time. How easy it is to try to live vicariously through others on television. Think of how popular reality shows are. In them, we get to watch others live. We don’t have to risk travel, we can watch others race around the world (I am for the hillbillies from Kentucky.) And if more normal things don’t excite us we can live the surrogate lives of tattoo artists, or women who have babies even know they didn’t know they were pregnant, or who push their toddlers to win beauty pageants, or have strange secret eating habits. It is almost like junk food. We get a sugar buzz, but does it really sustain us? We even train our children to live make-believe lives through video games. They don’t have to actually do anything they can just pretend to do or be greater than reality. My son is a 7’5” center for the Oklahoma Thunder. He just led them to a championship and won the MVP award. All from our living room chair.

I don’t mean to down television, it just seems that we were created for more than surrogate lives. We were made to enjoy risky lives that often make us deal with discomfort. In the Bible God was always calling people to leave their comfort zones, to take risks that lead to faith. Our own fears keep us from it.

There, as I sat in the coffee shop sipping cappuccino and of course looking intelligent, I noticed the following quotation painted on the wall:

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”    -Mark Twain