For the past couple of weeks, I have been struggling with fear.
Granted, most of them have to do with this new house: fear of a cold winter and enormous heating bills, fear that I really can’t take care of a house on my own, fear that someone is going to break in at night, etc.
But I’ve also had other fears: that I’m not using my time well, that my dog is going to die because she consumed a small part of her blanket one night, that I’m going to become irrelevant at work, that my writing is a hoax. And I’ve tried to cope with these irrational fears by rationalizing them (which really can become comical).
I’ve had discussions with my boss at work about whether someone is more likely to invade my home during a rain storm or a clear night, I fed my dog boiled potatoes for a day to settle her stomach (like that’s going to help her pass a blanket), and I’ve begun writing in my head again. When I write in my head, it’s alway very eloquent and publishable. Unlike the more painful experience of writing on paper or on a screen.
These tactics have only served to feed the fear. Because here’s what the fear is really all about: I want control of everything, and at the same time, I don’t know how to control everything. I am an unqualified egomaniac.
The good news: I am a redeemed unqualified egomaniac. What squelches the fear is reminding myself of the truth. God watches over me when I sleep, He cares for my needs, He orders my steps, and He loves me in spite of myself.
Perfect love drives out fear.