Invasion of Fear

The invasion began three decades ago.

Everyone else was at work despite the snow-covered roads. I felt pressure to be there so I bundled up my oldest and headed down the road. I drove for miles without any issues until I rounded a shady curve on an exit ramp to I-85. We slid to the side of the road. As I was getting out of my car to meet a gentleman who had stopped to help, a woman driving too fast for conditions skated around the curve and plowed into my car. In turn, my car hit me and I landed in a nearby gully and the car, along with my eight-month-old son, sailed down the ramp. The policeman said if he’d not been in a car seat he would’ve been thrown from the vehicle. {Thank You, Lord}

Fear laid low like a crouching tiger for two years. Then one night while driving in a rainstorm an eighteen-wheeler crept into my lane causing me to swerve. In an instant, fear lept into action. Over the years, the severity increased. Driving or riding on highways, it didn’t matter. I started avoiding all highways, then busy roads, then bridges and tunnels.

 

Fear is never satisfied⏤it always desires more, invading the abundant life God desires for us.

 

I’ve missed out-of-town birthdays, trips to my husband’s hometown in DC, and early on, even a few family beach outings. Truth is, I’ve missed out on much more⏤but even I can’t bear to admit how much.

At one point, I considered stepping away from teaching adult Bible studies, something I’d done for over twenty years. Guilt pursued me whispering how can you call yourself a Bible teacher when you struggle with all these fears? Recognizing this voice was not from God but still feeling the weight of the accusation, I sought counsel from a wise scholar of the Word. He helped to infiltrate my weary soul with a soaking of grace⏤something I’m quick to offer to others but sometimes slow to offer to myself.

I began keeping a journal of God’s faithfulness. When a difficult trip came up, I wrote it down. Sometimes the sentence was as simple as Lord, help me drive to the grocery store in the storm. Every time God chose to miraculously clear the skies or the roads, I gained confidence. And on those days when the skies refused to clear or a kiss from the back bumper left me rattled, I found comfort in knowing God was there, allowing it for my ultimate good.

Almost two years ago, in an effort to move closer to our grandchildren and to the mountains, we considered leaving our beloved century-old home and the city we’d lived in for twenty-five years. Leaving everyone and everything I knew to move an hour away (which was approximately 55 minutes outside my comfort zone) was overwhelming at times. But during the process, we found a home perched on a hill with a spectacular view of the mountains. The only downside was the drive to civilization. Instead of taking five minutes to reach the closest Starbucks (is there a better point of reference?), it would require twenty. Yep, a 40-minute round trip for a grandi-licious cup of coffee.

Fear tempted me to re-think the move. I had enough trouble driving around the corner on rainy days. How could I even think of driving twenty minutes to anywhere? But I had allowed fear to invade too much of my life already. I refused to let it determine we where we lived.

 

With the words, Enough is enough! the heavy strike of my foot hit the dirt, claiming my right to freedom.

 

We moved to that house on four acres with a mountain view a little over a year ago. It is an act of faith to drive forty minutes on a two-lane road dotted with roadside crosses but it feels like a kick in the enemy’s shin every single time I do it.

 

Journal of Victories

 

Another shin-kick was dealt at Disney last November. While there, Brian insisted I make a list of everything that tested my anxiety on the trip⏤but did anyway, even if done so poorly. (Let’s just say I WILL ride something on the next trip!) When I returned home, I made the list. Words flowed effortlessly, as did the tears. Mini-victories measured 8-1/2″ x 11″ that day. And as the victories increase, so will the pages. Each one reminding me of God’s desire to live abundantly and that He is here, with me, in the struggle as well as the victories.

 

Journaling our mini-victories over fear reminds us of God's faithfulness, giving us the courage to take another step toward freedom. Click To Tweet

 

Friends, I wish I could end this post in true David and Goliath style. But my fears aren’t totally slain, or honestly, even close. I can, however, say that with every small declaration against fear, freedom gains ground.

And I suppose this is where victory over fear begins for us all.

I covet your prayers on this journey. Maybe I’m not alone. Is there some way I can pray for you? 

 

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