This needs to be painted in my wall for those random moments when fear speaks louder than faith.
For those unguarded moments that sneak up in the night or awaken me in the morning. For the dark hours when the raucous voices of fear compete with the gentle lullaby of the One who sings over me with love. For the waking hours when the nagging song of fear drowns out the melodious music of the birds who greet the dawn with continual praise to the Father who watches over each one.
I am reminded that faith is an active choice. It doesn’t spring full blown from the mind and heart of the widow or orphan. It doesn't come easily to the the ill-in-health or the poor in worldly goods. It doesn't magically appear to one overwhelmed with grief or drowning in despair. One must reach for faith, as if for a lifeline, and hold on, even if the grasp is ever so tenuous, until hand over hand, inch by inch, one is pulled toward safety.
Faith is based on knowledge of the One in whom we trust coupled with the will to trust. Faith looks to the future and offers not an easy ride but the hope of a destination at the end of the struggle. By contrast fear is an emotion that needs no invitation to move in or take over. It is the unwelcome guest who puts its dirty shoes on the furniture and refuses to leave. Fear offers shaky ground, an undulating and uncertain footing on which we lose ourselves in meandering circles.
I cannot always keep fear from slipping under the threshold but I can refuse to give it a place to sleep.
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