Do One Thing Every Day That Scares You

So said Eleanor Roosevelt.

I saw the above quote on a greeting card which I sent to a friend recently.

The subject of fear came up with another friend last week after she asked me when I have been the most scared. Without hesitation I told her it was when we moved away from our home to an apartment last year. I quickly added that two experiences in my youth evoked great fear but in a different way: 1) jumping out of an airplane and 2) taking on a section of a cave in Montana called the Birth Canal where you chose to crawl on your stomach through a tunnel at the end of which was ‘light’ but you couldn’t ‘see’ it for what seemed like an eternity.

The thought of getting STUCK near the center of the earth was one of the most horrifying of my life. The difference between this and skydiving was that while perched on the wing of a small airplane 3,000 ft. above the earth, I realized the feat was going to be over in 2 1/2 minutes: a successful jump or breaking every bone in my body and subsequent death. Charming. The former subterranean entrapment, however, would have been, shall we say, less charming – I can’t even find the words as I’m developing hives just thinking about it.

Hmmmm. I am reminded of the introduction to The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. One passage within it reads:

‘Intense, unexpected suffering passes more quickly than suffering that is apparently bearable; the latter goes on for years and, without our noticing, eats away at our soul, until, one day, we are no longer able to free ourselves from the bitterness, and it stays with us for the rest of our lives.’

We try to avoid situations and people that strike fear in us. As Americans, we can generally accomplish this. In other countries, citizens cannot. They live not in fear, but terror – that their children will be abducted and sold into slavery; that their daughters will be mutilated and wives raped; that they will step on a land mine or inadvertently stand in the trajectory of a suicide bomber; that they will not find food to eat, clean water to drink or adequate medical care; that music will be banned, books confiscated, education denied; that their president is not Barack Obama, but Bashar al-Assad. This fear is a response to what is known and real.

As middle and upper class Americans, however, our fear often takes the form of worry and anxiety about what hasn’t happened yet. This can be chronic and crippling and is largely based on what is unknown and in some cases, not even real. For many of us, the scariest places lie within our own psyche. Yes, we may get sick or hurt or humiliated. We may not have enough money for our retirement or be able to keep up with the Jones. The future is uncertain save for the fact that we will surely die. I guess I’m not afraid of these things as much as something else: living an unlived life. And not living, to me, can be equated with not loving. C.S. Lewis writes about this tragedy:

‘Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket–safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable…’

I suppose there is a clear distinction between living in fear and living in spite of fear. Faith requires us to do the latter. When we do, it’s called courage. But what is courage, really, in the absence of fear? It is like happiness without sadness. Perspective on and appreciation for one are lost without the other. Faith in WHAT exactly, you may ask – ourselves, others, positive thinking, loving kindness, the universe, God?

I believe we are designed to be in communion with the one who created us. In the earthly realm this motivates adopted children to search tirelessly for their biological parents. It motivates countless others to search for something tangible to satisfy their deepest spiritual longing – such as wealth, status, material possessions and even human relationships. As most of us sooner or later discover, all of this will disappoint until we enter into communion with The One who created us.

What are you afraid of? What do you have faith in? How would you live your life differently if you knew you didn’t have tomorrow?

A brave survivor of liver cancer commented recently: you know, Caroline, we’re all just one doctor’s appointment away from having our lives turned upside down. Yikes! Some of us have already had our lives turned upside down through illness, loss or other difficult circumstances. Depending on our response, however, these experiences can produce a bitter root or sweet flower. For me the key ingredient is faith that God is weaving a larger story. This faith engenders hope and then love which is the tie that binds. Paul talks about faith, hope and love in his first letter to the Corinthians:

‘…Until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.’ (The Message translation.)

Perhaps  Paul E. Miller, author of A Praying Life sums it up best:

‘Without the Good Shepherd, we are alone in a meaningless story. Weariness and fear leave us feeling overwhelmed, unable to move. Cynicism leaves us doubting, unable to dream. The combination shuts down our hearts, and we just show up for life, going through the motions.’

May 2013 be a year in which you are able to carve out time for stillness and solitude – to ponder whether your life is a the story it is meant to be within The Far Greater Story …with the greatest ending you could never imagine.

– Caroline Watkins