Fear is a Thief

Today I found myself in a place I have been way too many times before: sitting on a bathroom floor, arms wrapped around my legs, head on my knees, crying, telling God I can't do it again.

In the past there have been many things I felt like I couldn't do: make a big life decision, lead a team of chaplains, finally end an extremely unhealthy relationship. Today though, the thing I was feeling especially unable to do is at the center of everything else: hope.

Not ten minutes ago I sat on the floor in a hotel bathroom, mascara running down my face, telling God I couldn't let myself hope again, because I couldn't deal with the pain that comes when whatever I am letting myself hope for doesn't come through.

About a month ago, I had the privilege of  helping out at a theological institute called Faithworks, and the theme this year was courage. On the first night, one of the professors who was running the institute talked about the connection between courage and hope, I believe saying the greatest courage comes from hope in the Lord, but he might have said the opposite too, that the greatest hope can only come from courage from the Lord. That second part is what floored me. Because I never realized how much courage it takes for me to hope.

This was my last year at college, and so many people asked me what I wanted to do with my life when I was done, or where I saw myself in ten years. Most of the time I didn't have an answer for them, because every time I started thinking about it I shut down the image that was coming to my head. It took me till almost the end of the year to figure out why, and the first time I voiced it was to my adviser in a meeting one day. I told her that I had realized the reason I couldn't get past a fleeting start to a vision for my future is because I was too afraid to hope for anything.

I didn't realize how much of a thief fear was in my life until I realized it had stolen my ability to hope for almost anything. At the time, I tried to do something about it, but didn't really know how to move forward. Somehow, though I saw the connection between fear and lack of hope, I didn't find the connection between courage and strength of hope.

So Faithworks was a good thing for me this year. And yet here I am, hardly a month later, telling God I can't hope again, I can't let my heart get broken again because I was silly enough to hope.

Sometimes God gives us an answer in unexpected ways.

Almost as soon as I finished saying "I can't do it", the chorus from Rend Collective's Every Giant Will Fall started playing in my head: "Every giant will fall, every mountain will move, Every chain of the past, You've broken in two, over fear, over lies, we're singing the truth, that nothing is impossible with You". The translation was clear: "You can do it, you're choosing not to". So I stood up and continued to defend myself, stating that okay, yes in theory I could do, I knew I was supposed to be able to, because the Lord is my strength and that is enough, but I felt so... flimsy. My heart felt flimsy, like it would not be able to take another hit, and hoping just set me up for the fatal blow. 

God answered me with Sanctus Real this time. "Those problems you're worried about they can't keep you from living now, when you shake 'em off and lay 'em down, down, down at the cross where your freedom's found".  

Now this particular answer is very helpful in theory, but I don't think I have ever known how to actually give my trouble to God, how to lay them down at God's feet, and I just realized this today. Maybe part of my problem, my inability to hope comes from the fact I have no idea how to lay my fears and struggles down at the feet of God. I'll tell myself that I have laid them down, and then go back and pick them up because I think the only way to deal with things is to do it myself. Which, as we all know, gets nothing done in the end. Which might be why, even though I have known for months that fear is keeping me from hoping, I have not take more than a single step forward in the path to overcoming that. I was trying to take the wrong step first. I had been praying that God take the fears and anxieties that steal my hope, when I should have been asking God to show me how to give them to Him. (I'm figuring this all out right now as I'm typing, so if this seems ramble-y, that's why). 

A really haunting question has come to my head a lot in the past few weeks: "What would you hope for if you weren't afraid?". I want to live my life following the hope that I have gotten from God, not the fear that comes from elsewhere. 

But the thing is, I don't know how to hope yet. Because I never asked God to show me how. It seems like such a simple thing, I thought I always knew how, but I don't think I ever did. 

So this post is the start to my journey of trying to learn how to hope. And you know what? I'm really hopeful about it. I know it's going to be painful and hard at times, but I'm excited and joyful that it's happening. 

I am onto my next great adventure with God, and I pray that if any of you are struggling with hoping, this post might have helped you, and might point you towards the only teacher who can show you how. 

Fear is not only a liar, as I talked about in my last post, but it is a thief, and it's time we chose to do something about it. I don't ever think there will come a time when hope is always easy, I know there will always be hard times, but I know God is what will make my flimsy heart strong, and God is what will keep me moving. If you let God, I know God will do the same for you.

Thanks for reading guys, I pray you always know you are loved, you're amazing!