Be Not Afraid

Be not afraid...these are the words that emerge from darkness, from silent prayer tonight.  And there is so much I fear, though I am sometimes barely aware.  Fear looms in the anxious- in moving cars, on the edge of daydreams, in the nervous twist of my fingers through my hair.

I forget sometimes the fears of childhood; it is not such a carefree place as one might imagine.  My 8 year old has developed these irrational fears lately, this week obsessing over germs and poison.  (Meanwhile she is fearless- much to my dismay- on the edge of steep mountains!) But I forget the creative imagination of a child- that I was once like her, though my monsters wore other disguises.  I hid instead from creatures that crept around in the dark of night- and from the endlessness of time.

These days I miss the childhood fears- the ones that were born of an overactive imagination. These days my fears are darker and truer to life.  I fear for my children's lives- that they will know despair and pain I cannot protect them from. I fear war and intolerance- the faces of hatred, the fists of angry revenge, stories from Libya, Iran, Afghanistan...and the city across the river.  I am afraid when I read about ice caps melting and temperatures rising. I am afraid of this powerlessness I feel sometimes, and I am afraid that I cannot any longer keep the world at bay.

But mostly I fear hopelessness.  And perhaps it is in that place- in the moment of holding fast to hope, in the turn toward prayer- that the words are recalled to consciousness:  Be not afraid. They return like courage summoned to the call, and I push up against those edges- not because the fears are uncalled for, but because I am called to face them.  Over and over again- so many things I think I cannot do, things I think I cannot be.  But everything is a plunge, every moment-- to do and to be and to live from the hope that lies still within this heart.

Recently a friend told me she did not quite know how to cope with the uncertainty she was experiencing in her life-- she knew only how to muster enough hope for the moment.  On the day we spoke, she was making banana bread.  It was not the answer to solve her problems, but it was an answer to get her through the day.

This is how it is so often for me- to know only what I can and must do now, in the moment that is right before me. Tonight what I must do is to face my own vulnerability around the things I fear. I tell my daughter that we can face the scary things together, and together we draw cartoon monsters that symbolize our deepest fears. This is the first courageous step- to look them in the face- to see what is the imagined- and what is the real.

It seems that many people I know and walk with are taking these courageous steps in their lives- whether it is peeling back the layers to reveal their truest selves, or entering dark places in this world to live more fully into a call. Ironically, perhaps, these courageous steps are actually steps toward greater vulnerability and exposure.

I experienced this myself this past weekend in officiating my sister's wedding ceremony.  I honor my sister and her husband, for marriage is a courageous plunge. On a daily basis in married life, I face my own vulnerability every time I put aside my own ego and pride and remember each decision is not all about me.  Every time my husband and I forgive each other and heal the rifts between us, we are courageous- exposing our soft hearts, letting go of our sharp edges.

It was a gift to honor their love and commitment. I was able to offer my full presence, and to help her create something beautiful from the heart. It was also a challenge to my courage- for though I have led worship within my congregation, it was the first time I've been asked to lead anything so personal- for someone I dearly love- before family and friends of many different religious and spiritual views. I realized my fear only in the second it was too late to say no! But the fear was pointless-- this was a gift I could not not give, as I held in my heart a sister whose generosity of spirit has been a guide to me my whole life.  There are some gifts where we cease to know who is giver and who is receiver; the ceremony was one of shared grace for all of us present.

In this moment of reflection, words arise to celebrate the courageous movements forward so many us are taking:

These are the places where courage is summoned:
to gently birth the vulnerable soul,
to live from the center of this heart,
and to pray with the ones who seek-

We are many here, new on this journey.
We are clumsy, perhaps timid and shy
as we face our edges.  But we are here together-
held in that grace, and we are not afraid.