Inquisitive Adventures

A black bird catches my attention, bringing me back to the present. I find myself once again in the middle of the woods. I lift my head, watching the bird in the trees, its red wing highlighting its location so I can follow it. As I walk, I find myself contemplating.

Is fear really as bad as we make it out to be?

As the question lingers in my mind, I’m reminded of the phrase, “Fear not,” in the Bible. Something deep inside me tells me it is a daily love note to our minds, bodies, and souls from God. I wonder if we can read God’s tone each time He speaks this phrase. Is it angry? Loud? Gentle? Is there judgment? Or a whisper we are invited to hear if we quiet ourselves long enough?

Is it just me, or does it appear we have begun to fear fear itself, or maybe it’s bearing the weight of shame on ourselves or placing it on others for being simply scared?

Is it not human to fear? I have this notion that it is built deep within our wiring.

The little black bird continues to hop and flutter from branch to branch high above me. I’m curious if it fears me. Does it have the same wiring? Does it feel shame for running from a predator?

Without fear, courage would not exist.

If we found ourselves in the middle of the woods and heard the sound of trickling water, only to find a tree falling, is it not fear that saves us and screams at us to move our feet to safety?

Just because I fear, does that make me unworthy of approaching the throne of the One who created me, the heavens, and the stars? What makes us worthy to begin with? Is it the air in our lungs or some unknown quality I can’t figure out?

What if we were created with the capacity to fear?

What then?

Then maybe we have permission to be imperfect beings existing in a beautiful but imperfect world, and guilt for faltering because of racing hearts, shaking hands, and tightening lungs was never our burden to carry.

Yet fear can be our downfall, tempting us to act on hate toward the world around us.

Fear can be like a frozen lake in winter, keeping us paralyzed, or a catalyst for spring, releasing rushing waters.

Perhaps the problem with fear is that it gives us the illusion of standing on solid ground. When we don’t have the authority to command earthquakes, storms, or seas, our feet can slip out of our control at any moment.

Maybe it’s something that requires wisdom. What would happen if we slowed down enough to befriend it or use it as a guidepost, discerning when to listen and when to ignore it?

When I think back to standing on a mountaintop, the power of the wind and the healthy fear of staying back, I think that, in the right circumstances, fear can be a gift. It presents us with opportunities that mold, shape, and grow us if we take a step to answer them rather than just avoid them.

I’m brought back by the realization that my head is still raised. The lonely bird continues to go from tree to tree until it is out of reach of my camera lens. I hear voices approaching. It becomes startled and flutters away.

What a complicated, multifaceted thing, fear and courage.

Maybe fear is not the enemy.

Surrendering to it is.

Courage is doing everything scared.