It all comes back to fear.
That’s what I’ve been noticing, realizing. My struggles, insecurities, decisions—all are grown out of fear. To be honest, I love fear, so much. It protects me and keeps me safe.
Trust? Trust hurts. Trust means vulnerability and dependency and openness. And hurt can find its way into each of those things.
So why is trust good? And what is bad about fear?
Fear helps me avoid pain. But what if pain isn’t bad. What if hurt isn’t the enemy. Could pain be an intermediary? A channel between death and life.
While fear might block the pain, it doesn’t help bring positive change. It doesn’t open the door for pain—good pain—which leads to healing, to life.
Fear smothers. Fear pushes back at arms-length. Fear is dry eyes and a churning stomach.
And trust? Trust reveals our hearts—the melting smiles, loud shrieks of delight, fervent tears—leaving open the possibilities of pain. But with that comes the chance of life.
Pain and trust. They interweave in striking harmony to fill the bare space between death and life.
How could it be that what I have been clutching for protection actually hinders me from flourishing? And the thing I have been so afraid of could actually be my salvation.
Through trust there is mercy, faith, love, holiness, redemption, hope. Consider what these things would be in the absence of trust, in the vacancy of an open heart.
I no longer have to avoid the threats of pain. I can abandon fear. And all there is left?