Having The Right Kind Of Fear
Sermon
No Post-Easter Slump
Gospel Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost (First Third)
Lucy, the psychiatrist of Peanuts fame, sits waiting in her booth. Frieda comes seeking help. "My problem is that I'm afraid of kindergarten. I don't even know why! I try to reason it out, but I can't ... I'm just afraid ... I think about it all the time ... I'm really afraid...." Lucy responds, as only Lucy does, "You're no different from anyone else. Five cents, please." Sensitivity never was her primary quality.
I
Nevertheless, Lucy nailed the issue. Frieda is you and I. We all have fears, some real, some imaginary, yet real to us; some healthy, some unhealthy; some known to us, others unknown to us. But have them, we do!
How do we identify or describe them? We look at several possibilities. We may fear that others don't like us, and certainly wouldn't like us if they knew our inner thoughts and outer behaviors. So we do what multitudes do. Instead of risking ourselves, including those with whom we live, we keep everything bottled up inside, thus avoiding true intimacy. Or, we fear that we will not measure up to standards of success or conduct which others set for us. A patient in a mental hospital expressed his guilt and anxiety, because he failed to do what others, beginning with his parents, expected of him. Others of us fear what might happen to our mate and children if anything ever happened to us. Often, those who express such fears fail to make preparations for their own illness and death. We may also fear the loneliness and isolation of growing old and becoming worn out, unable to care for ourself. On the geriatric unit of a hospital, several patients spoke of their lack of energy and purpose, wondering what tomorrow would bring, which for many would be no different from what today brought. We probably agree with what Frederick Speakman says in his book, Love is Something You Do. "Do you realize how much of the time we spend running scared among silly amusements and slippery morals to keep from facing how frightened we are?"
So, as frightened animals cowering in the corner, we may spend a lifetime of fear hiding behind our criticism of others who refuse to live up to our standards. Or, we may hole up in our comfortable little communities by revolving our life around our immediate family. Or, in our social groups, we talk about everything under the sun, except who's hurting, who's in pain. Instead, we prefer to keep playing our emotional games, described in Petula Clark's song, "Games People Play." Or, we identify with our church clique in which we all think the same thoughts and complain about the same political and religious issues. Or, we prefer to think of our nation as virtuous, while condemning other nations for not accepting our values and agenda.
If we persist in harboring our illusions, we may well find ourselves responding to life and death as the man in the story, "The Croquet Player." "What if the world does end tomorrow, since there's nothing I can do about it. I don't even want to think about it. I've a date to play croquet with my aunt at 2:00 p.m.; for croquet is at least one thing I can understand." This attitude, this decision, of course, makes us no less frightened. It simply shoves our phobia into our subconscious, where, one day, it may become a neurosis or psychosis.
II
So, is there a brave way to be scared? Ashley Montague, in his book On Being Human, says, "Yes," because "to be human is to be in danger." No one ought to be more willing to take risks for the right reasons than the person of faith. Jesus offers a powerful response to our usual fears. "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both body and soul in hell." The early church took that literally, as "the blood of the martyrs became the seed of the church." Despite their fears about getting tossed to the lions, nailed to crosses, sawn in half, they stood and died in the power of the risen Christ. They acted upon the potent belief that the final judgment of life's issues is made, not before human courts, based on personal opinions, even on those made by political and religious gurus, but before the court of God. "Fear not!" Jesus' words echo down the corridor of time. Fear not, for our lives consist, not in the abundance of our plentiful possessions, or personal opinions, or political decisions, but by every word that proceeds from God's mouth.
III
In the power of Christ, we can discard our false fears of power, pride, prejudice, planning, yes, even peacemaking. We do so because we know that we are of infinite worth in God's sight. A Christmas card for the pastor read, "To a member of the NAORBP -- National Association Of Really Beautiful People." Fear not! God has more concern for us, the highest creation, than for the hairs on our head (thank God) and for the birds of the air.
Perhaps more than anything we need to learn how to distinguish between essential and nonessential fear. Remember the story of the Gadarene madman in Scripture? When the crowds saw the former madman "sitting clothed and in his right mind," they were afraid. Strange -- more afraid of sanity than madness. Maybe we all are. At any rate, it's a fact that while our forefathers and mothers looked forward to automation, we are almost threatened to death by it. Someone has begun a group called "The Lead Pencil Society," as a protest against the mechanical devices of our age.
Søren Kierkegaard, in his book Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing, puts fear in its proper perspective. "Spiritually understood, there is a ruinous illness, (namely) not to fear what a man (woman) should fear, sacredness of modesty, God in the heavens, commands of duty, voice of conscience, accountability to eternity."
Life and reality lie in the realm of knowing what to fear, and what not to fear. Again, the Scripture instructs us "not to fear those who can kill the body, but cannot kill the soul; but rather to fear (revere) him who can destroy both soul and body in hell." We may well destroy each other, if not physically, then psychologically. We've seen plenty of each kind of destruction on both sides of every conflict, as we announce to the world, in the words of Bob Dylan, "God's on our side." Yet, we humans cannot destroy the spirit, the real self, try as we do.
The answer lies with our relationship to the living Lord of history. For Jesus' final words from the Cross were not, "My God, why have you forsaken me?" but, "Into your hands I commit my Spirit."
A woman complained bitterly about her pastor who ministered to her in a time of deep sorrow. "He had nothing new to tell me, just the same old business about Christ, the resurrection, nothing different, just the same old thing." What a contrast with a little boy sitting alone on the train. The pastor, noticing him, took a seat beside him and asked, "Aren't you afraid traveling alone like this?" "Oh, no," he replied. "My father is driving."
Of course, no matter how deeply committed to our faith, we will have bad days. Sometimes, in our agonizing, debilitating fears, we will cry out with Job, "Why was I born?" However, the Lord is in the driver's seat. God still controls the universe. Christ continues to care, more than we care for us, and for the world. He is Lord. We turn to him in our fears, because he first turned to us with his love.
I
Nevertheless, Lucy nailed the issue. Frieda is you and I. We all have fears, some real, some imaginary, yet real to us; some healthy, some unhealthy; some known to us, others unknown to us. But have them, we do!
How do we identify or describe them? We look at several possibilities. We may fear that others don't like us, and certainly wouldn't like us if they knew our inner thoughts and outer behaviors. So we do what multitudes do. Instead of risking ourselves, including those with whom we live, we keep everything bottled up inside, thus avoiding true intimacy. Or, we fear that we will not measure up to standards of success or conduct which others set for us. A patient in a mental hospital expressed his guilt and anxiety, because he failed to do what others, beginning with his parents, expected of him. Others of us fear what might happen to our mate and children if anything ever happened to us. Often, those who express such fears fail to make preparations for their own illness and death. We may also fear the loneliness and isolation of growing old and becoming worn out, unable to care for ourself. On the geriatric unit of a hospital, several patients spoke of their lack of energy and purpose, wondering what tomorrow would bring, which for many would be no different from what today brought. We probably agree with what Frederick Speakman says in his book, Love is Something You Do. "Do you realize how much of the time we spend running scared among silly amusements and slippery morals to keep from facing how frightened we are?"
So, as frightened animals cowering in the corner, we may spend a lifetime of fear hiding behind our criticism of others who refuse to live up to our standards. Or, we may hole up in our comfortable little communities by revolving our life around our immediate family. Or, in our social groups, we talk about everything under the sun, except who's hurting, who's in pain. Instead, we prefer to keep playing our emotional games, described in Petula Clark's song, "Games People Play." Or, we identify with our church clique in which we all think the same thoughts and complain about the same political and religious issues. Or, we prefer to think of our nation as virtuous, while condemning other nations for not accepting our values and agenda.
If we persist in harboring our illusions, we may well find ourselves responding to life and death as the man in the story, "The Croquet Player." "What if the world does end tomorrow, since there's nothing I can do about it. I don't even want to think about it. I've a date to play croquet with my aunt at 2:00 p.m.; for croquet is at least one thing I can understand." This attitude, this decision, of course, makes us no less frightened. It simply shoves our phobia into our subconscious, where, one day, it may become a neurosis or psychosis.
II
So, is there a brave way to be scared? Ashley Montague, in his book On Being Human, says, "Yes," because "to be human is to be in danger." No one ought to be more willing to take risks for the right reasons than the person of faith. Jesus offers a powerful response to our usual fears. "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both body and soul in hell." The early church took that literally, as "the blood of the martyrs became the seed of the church." Despite their fears about getting tossed to the lions, nailed to crosses, sawn in half, they stood and died in the power of the risen Christ. They acted upon the potent belief that the final judgment of life's issues is made, not before human courts, based on personal opinions, even on those made by political and religious gurus, but before the court of God. "Fear not!" Jesus' words echo down the corridor of time. Fear not, for our lives consist, not in the abundance of our plentiful possessions, or personal opinions, or political decisions, but by every word that proceeds from God's mouth.
III
In the power of Christ, we can discard our false fears of power, pride, prejudice, planning, yes, even peacemaking. We do so because we know that we are of infinite worth in God's sight. A Christmas card for the pastor read, "To a member of the NAORBP -- National Association Of Really Beautiful People." Fear not! God has more concern for us, the highest creation, than for the hairs on our head (thank God) and for the birds of the air.
Perhaps more than anything we need to learn how to distinguish between essential and nonessential fear. Remember the story of the Gadarene madman in Scripture? When the crowds saw the former madman "sitting clothed and in his right mind," they were afraid. Strange -- more afraid of sanity than madness. Maybe we all are. At any rate, it's a fact that while our forefathers and mothers looked forward to automation, we are almost threatened to death by it. Someone has begun a group called "The Lead Pencil Society," as a protest against the mechanical devices of our age.
Søren Kierkegaard, in his book Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing, puts fear in its proper perspective. "Spiritually understood, there is a ruinous illness, (namely) not to fear what a man (woman) should fear, sacredness of modesty, God in the heavens, commands of duty, voice of conscience, accountability to eternity."
Life and reality lie in the realm of knowing what to fear, and what not to fear. Again, the Scripture instructs us "not to fear those who can kill the body, but cannot kill the soul; but rather to fear (revere) him who can destroy both soul and body in hell." We may well destroy each other, if not physically, then psychologically. We've seen plenty of each kind of destruction on both sides of every conflict, as we announce to the world, in the words of Bob Dylan, "God's on our side." Yet, we humans cannot destroy the spirit, the real self, try as we do.
The answer lies with our relationship to the living Lord of history. For Jesus' final words from the Cross were not, "My God, why have you forsaken me?" but, "Into your hands I commit my Spirit."
A woman complained bitterly about her pastor who ministered to her in a time of deep sorrow. "He had nothing new to tell me, just the same old business about Christ, the resurrection, nothing different, just the same old thing." What a contrast with a little boy sitting alone on the train. The pastor, noticing him, took a seat beside him and asked, "Aren't you afraid traveling alone like this?" "Oh, no," he replied. "My father is driving."
Of course, no matter how deeply committed to our faith, we will have bad days. Sometimes, in our agonizing, debilitating fears, we will cry out with Job, "Why was I born?" However, the Lord is in the driver's seat. God still controls the universe. Christ continues to care, more than we care for us, and for the world. He is Lord. We turn to him in our fears, because he first turned to us with his love.
