There are several different ways of answering her question. I can’t quite remember which answer I gave, but her question and sense of distaste for something that is so important in Anglican liturgy has stayed with me. Partly because it so perfectly reflects what is technically called an over-realised eschatology [i.e. she was leaning too far into the future age when we’re living in both the now of our current broken state and the not-yet of our fully redeemed selves]. But I also remember it because it so aptly reveals the common trap we fall into, thinking the gospel gives a get-out-of-jail-free card from the lived human experience (aka "denial").
Fear, Faith and One Day at a Time
July 9, 2024
Some thinking 'out loud' on our humanity, how we face (or avoid) our fears in the name of pseudo-faith, and the spiritual benefit of taking things one day at a time.
A few years ago, a new parishioner came to see me. She was already a Christian long before she came to my church, but she was a new Anglican and pretty much new to mainline liturgical denominations. Among her questions, one stood out: why do we confess our sins in worship every Sunday? She was asking not because she didn’t believe that we all have sinned and need forgiveness. No, she knew she needed forgiveness, but found that confessing our sins every week a bit like returning to past wrongs in a now-reconciled relationship. Why pretend like God's forgiveness wasn't enough? From the joy she found in forgiveness and the liberation of the gospel, she couldn’t understand and found the weekly rhythm of confession dour and overly negative.
Take, for example, fear.
I have heard it preached (as I’m sure many people have) that “do not fear” is the most frequent command found in the Bible, which seems about right, although I've not counted. It’s usually mentioned in a sermon about the opposite of fear, namely faith. We all act out of fears. We can get controlling, defensive, manipulative, apathetic, angry and so on, all because of deep-seated fear.
God says do not fear (yes, a quick Bible review reveals this to be true).
The reasoning for not fearing that God often gives—the why we needn’t fear—is that God is with us (also true).
If God is with us, there’s no reason to fear. I can now have faith in that divine presence, I can believe in it, rest in and trust in it. The fear can dissolve, not least because that presence is love.
And yet… do I?
While the above is indeed true, we edge onto faulty ground if we start thinking that it is unchristian to ever feel fear again. It gets even more stuck if we start to hide our fears from our fellow Christians and communities, because we don’t want them thinking our faith isn’t as solid and sure as it looks on the outside.
It’s the same kind of logical confusion and faulty spirituality present in the parishioner’s question about confession. We confess our sins because we come to Jesus and receive forgiveness. We keep coming to Jesus, not because his forgiveness didn’t take and not because we’re annoyingly bringing up the past, but because we are far more sinful that we realised! There’s more to own up, there’s more to reveal. There’s are more places in me that need to be named and open up to God’s merciful love. It’s not because God’s forgiveness wasn’t enough the first time, it’s that human capacity is limited. I am human and I keep being human. The gospel is lived every day. There’s no graduation in this life.
And the same goes for fear and the God who’s presence gives us faith. God’s presence is not the issue when it comes to fear and me trusting in it. God’s presence is sure. It’s guaranteed. The Holy Spirit is here. Pentecost happened. But I am human. I have not spiritually graduated. I am a work-in-progress. With each 24-hour period, there are new fears to face. To be perfectly honest, I seem to have far more fears than I did 20 years ago! Yet I count that as progress. Because it means I'm begin more honest. But something else is true too. Slowly, through daily prayer, regular self-examen and opening myself up to God, I’m better at trusting God’s presence more than my fears. Turning them over. Trusting more, fearing less. The progress isn’t linear, but it is headed in the right direction.
Boiling it down to two options for how we as Christians contend with fear, there are two options:
- Pretend I don’t fear anymore and fake it as best I can to trust God.
- Admit I fear daily and slowly learn to trust God.
Lastly, here’s the thing I’ve been reminded of recently. God doesn’t need my perfection. He doesn’t need me to be fearless, sinless or anything “-less”. He knows I’m human, far more than I do. He needs my honesty, my willingness and my best for today. I put in the work. Slowly, I make progress. One day he’ll supply the perfection.
******
Cover photo: image by Ann Schreck on Unsplash
Inset photo 1: image by Seth Anderson on Flickr
Inset photo 2: image by Malvestida on
Unsplash
A few weeks ago, I got to sit down via the wonders of the internet and have a catch-up with my friend and former colleague, Wayne Watson. We talked God, life, and the universe. And Winnie the Pooh! In Wayne's own words " What begins as lighthearted conversation between old friends quickly unfolds into a thoughtful and wide-ranging exploration of culture and the pursuit of God's truth. " It was fun. If you fancy a listen, check out the podcast (and the entire series) by clicking here ! ******
***** I’ve long noticed that the Bible that gets preached from the Sunday pulpit can be, well, a bit picky. Some bits are kept in and preached. Others are studiously ignored. The result? Different churches can give quite a different sense of what the Bible's message is than if you actually read it through cover to cover. Now I don't mean to accuse any one wing of the church: whether your tradition uses the lectionary (usually a three-year cycle of curated readings) or jumps around the canon to whichever biblical book or theme is of interest, certain parts of the Scriptures are often ignored. Some passages are cut off halfway through; others are omitted entirely. I remember preaching on Independence Day in the US (the irony of doing so as a Brit was not lost on me). The reading for the day began in Deuteronomy 10:17: “For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the stranger, providing them food and clothing…” Sounds lovely, right? Well, yes—but Deuteronomy 10:17 starts in the middle of a paragraph. In the middle of divine instruction that God gives through Moses. We can see this in how it begins: for the LORD your God.. . It could also be translated because the LORD your God … This passage is the explanation for something. It is a why to a biblical command, not a standalone theological statement. So what’s the actual command? What’s the main message God wants the people to hear? The verse before (v.16) says this: “Circumcise, then, the foreskin of your heart, and do not be stubborn any longer.” The purpose of this speech? To call God’s people to repentance. To change. The ‘heart’ in biblical texts usually refers to one’s innermost self. The seat of who you are in the deepest places of your will and desire. God has said he wants their obedience (v.12), he has reminded them of his extraordinary generosity in choosing them as his people (vv.13–15), but here God lands a punch: The centremost part of who you are, God says, needs to be clipped. Reading vv.17–22 feels quite different in light of the whole text. It’s not a statement of a good God whom we should simply ‘fear’ and ‘hold fast to’ (v.20). It’s far more rooted and real than that. In reading through all ten verses, we get a sense of a people who have become too big for their boots. Who have forgotten that it’s not because they have anything to offer that God chose them, but rather because of the graciousness of God. And we get a clear call from God that such people need to, in essence, sort themselves out. Be humbled. Circumcise their hearts. I don’t believe the Sunday lectionary was formed with a conspiratorial agenda to omit the hard stuff (the whole thing would largely be read through in the daily lectionary for the Daily Office). But I do believe it’s spiritually dangerous for us to ignore the material that is left on the cutting room floor in our preaching. The people of God are called to grow into the fullness of the gospel—to become mature Christians. If we only ever swim in the protected waters of the lectionary, we will not be confronted by the reality of a God who regularly and reliably calls his people to humble themselves, care for those in need, and live lives of sacrificial love. Who makes space within their communities for the vulnerable. Who looks out for the marginalised among us. Who deals with the darkest and ugliest of human evil. Who redeems out of family lines and dynasties most of us would give up on. In recent years, there has been increasing focus on the importance of the gut–brain connection. How what you eat shapes who you are, and how you function mentally, emotionally, and physically. What we fuel ourselves with matters. The same is true spiritually. The Bible is the spiritual equivalent of a Whole30. Or a wholemeal, organic, seed-infused sourdough loaf. It’s nutritious and gritty. It requires some chewing. It’s not always easy to digest. But it provides the minerals and nutrients we need. It may take some adjustment, but it may also be just what the doctor ordered. Not for our physical sicknesses, but rather our more pernicious spiritual malaise. ******
