I grew up in Colorado in a small blue farmhouse next to a dairy, across from a cornfield. During the day, this was a beautiful place to be. The Colorado Rockies were on the horizon and fresh (sort of cow-tainted) air abounded. At night, however, it was dark. Those of you raised in cities would have no concept of dark, having been raised on lit streets in regular neighborhoods. The only lights that existed that far out of town were the eerie glow of the tall farm lights. Conceptually, these were comforting, as they represented a family living peacefully on their farm, apple pies, fresh butter, all that. In reality, the lights glowed blue-green and looked more like alien spaceship lights than the glow of hearth and home. We had one of these lights between the barn and our detached garage. It was alright if you weren't by yourself, but pity your shaken frame of five-year-old mind if you were.
Texas was a similar story. We lived in the inner sticks (that region of country about 5 minutes outside of town) and had a light on the back porch. I'd take my flashlight to check on the chickens (Aussie: chooks), walking with measured tread out to the far reaches of our acreage. I'd slowly sweep the light over the corners of the barn, checking for monsters or skunks. I'd gather what eggs were there to be gathered and turn my back on the barn. That was a horrid feeling, turning your back on the barn, leaving the eyes of all the creepy crawlies to watch you walk back to the house, where the beacon of civilization stood. But you couldn't run. Running from the darkness was an admission that you were scared. That wasn't an option. I'd usually sing loudly instead.
As I grew, my fears grew with me. The dark was now below not being cool, not being a flexible ballerina, failing, getting fat, singing off key, and not being an A-team volleyball player on my list of fears. That was high school stuff. The list changed again when I got to college. I wanted to do well in my classes, be well liked and not fail at things. Not failing at things sometimes meant not trying them. Basketball? Forget it - white girl who can't jump. Soccer? I run distance, not speed. This can be quite hindering for a girl who likes to try new things and be involved in everything. Then I made a friend. He wasn't afraid to try new things, even if it meant failing at them. Failing was just a part of the learning process. The not participating was worse than failing for him. Slowly, I caught on. Sure, there were still things I was reluctant to do, but the way I viewed my fear of failure began to change from a dignified safety net to a set of shackles. I played basketball and soccer. Basketball was still a small disaster, but soccer wasn't too bad. But that's ok. I learned small disasters are not the end of the world.
Looking over your shoulder in moments like these, you see you've come a fair hike from the place that you started. Upon turning back to the summit, you realize there are still miles, switchbacks and rattlesnakes between you and the goal. The fear list still exists. I'm afraid of not being a good teacher, not being liked, people knowing me truly, and there's still failing and getting fat.
These things are all motivators. The fear of not being liked sometimes makes me careful to present myself in the most fun and friendly way possible. Fear of not being a good teacher motivates me to read good books and learn new things about the world to share with my future students. Here's the trick. Being fun and friendly and reading books are not bad things, it's what motivates them that's crooked. Fear is a dreadful master. It's never satisfied. It works you and works you and works you until you collapse in a blubbering defeated heap somewhere. The alternative?
Love.
Love is a motivator too. Instead of treading heavily behind you, nipping at your heels and cracking its whip, Love comes running by you, grabs you by the hand and races ahead. Love is a child who has a secret to share and drags his companion along by the hand because they can't hurry fast enough. He knows if his companion only knew the nature of the secret, they'd be running pell mell too. Love is a mighty river, a torrent that snaps the house of twigs that Fear has built. Love is freedom for the captive, home for the wanderer, and an invitation for the lonely.
With love, I read teaching books because those kids deserve my very best. With love, I go running because I only have one body and it's the living space of God's Spirit. With love, I am friendly because community is God ordained and God sustained. With love, I read the fear list and realize the only way I can get rid of it is by making one choice at a time. It will only be gone when I choose daily to walk in love.
After all,
"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." 1 John 4:18
Little Miss Sunshine
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