Oh, To Be Fearless

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.

When President Roosevelt (FDR) spoke these words at his inaugural address, the country was at the bottom of the Great Depression.  He went on to describe fear as the “nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”

We all have fears, some more than others.  Even those who appear to be fearless are, in reality, able to keep their fears in check.  The causes of fear are endless, from ablutophobia (fear of washing or bathing) to zoophobia (fear of animals).  I recently confirmed that I have a touch of claustrophobia when I visited an inmate at the county jail.  Entering into a small, locked room, I spoke with him through a glass and telephone.  Ten minutes into the conversation I got dry mouth and had to pee.  And I still had 50 minutes to go before they would let me out!

The Bible documents a number of instances involving the fear of men, animals and elements.  Jesus said that we should not fear men, but rather “fear him who, after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into hell.”  (Luke 12:5)  My fundamentalist friends assure me that the verse doesn’t mean that we should be afraid of God; we should respect him and recognize his awesome power — a sort of healthy fear of him.

While I recognize God’s omnipotence (the power to do anything he wants), I would rather approach him as my perfect Father, the one whom I can run to, and cling to, the one whom I trust to rout my fears. Oftentimes I get comfort when, faced with a fear, I cry silently to him, “Your will be done.”

I suspect that I will never achieve fearlessness this side of death, but my hope is that I am approaching it, ever so slowly, and will overcome it, even if it be at the other side of death on my continued journey.

Another thing that helps me is the thought that others are facing greater challenges than I, and that when I reach the other side of the fearful event, I wonder why I should have feared it at all.

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reTIREment

It’s finally here.  After 43+ years of “workin’ for the man,” I am now my own man.  No more rushing to work, dragging back to the house, then squeezing food and sleep in between before it starts over again. Now I enjoy walking in the park every day with my wife and dogs, getting free coffee and doughnuts with the other old folks on senior day at Kroger, waiting for my car to be fixed rather than leaving it, and being able to hop in the car whenever my wife says, “Let’s go to …” — any time of the day.

And, thank God, I have lived 59 days of it so far.

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