Why Wisdom Won't Make Me Fearless
It seems the stories that attach so firmly to our memories are the ones that are so absurd they have to be true.
That one time you were at a pub and Ashton Kutcher actually did stroll on in.
That one time you did get a crazy amount of scholarship money to go to college.
That one time you witnessed to some women in a prison and they accepted Jesus.
Every time you auditioned for something completely unprepared and somehow got in.
That one time you thought the third guy you met at college was cute and then you’re dating and not stuck on the one way street.
Life is awesome. It’s random. It’s hilarity in a blender and sometimes we get splattered. And it tastes oh so good.
But sometimes we find ourselves a little too close to the blade. And the stories there aren’t so great to remember. But absurd and memorable nonetheless.
Stories about the girl who was left lonely on her wedding day because the guy backed out…two times in a row.
Stories about the college roommate who decides to turn your apartment into a child daycare.
Stories about the love of your life contracting a mental illness and suddenly abusing you.
Stories about your dad going to work and being killed in a freak accident on the job.
All of these stories reflect the fragility of life and can cause us to forget the hilarity and joy.
Have you ever found yourself suddenly backed into a corner by life and you never saw it coming?
“What I do now is vital…one wrong move and all I’ll hear is wreckage.” What was once a strong brick corner to me slowly melts into translucent, unstable glass.
I wonder if I find myself there more often than the average person.
If my past year had a theme it would be the ying-yang of fear and courage. (As you may have caught on I’ve already written about fear and bravery…like a month ago here).
I always thought of myself as a fearless person but really I just never felt like I had anything to be afraid of.
Thing is, we don’t know what it is to be brave until we’ve been really scared.
Being courageous is always about feeling like a coward and doing something anyway.
Some months ago I was very fearful about making a decision to go on a missions trip and what that would mean for the rest of my life. As I worked through that I realized the value of being honest with myself and not be afraid of acknowledging what my heart was already trying to tell me. I decided and am happy.
But still, our wisest of choices can go all wrong.
“I must have made a wrong choice somewhere along the way.” “If I only I had…” “Obviously I should have done…” “If I could only retrace my steps to that moment…”
Sometimes, we do dig ourselves into deep holes that we could have prevented. Other times, we have been living as wisely as we can and things still break.
This was terrifying for me to realize.
That living wisely can’t save me from pain.
Ya ya I know I’m not in control, God is, and I need to trust His plan for me. As hard as I work to believe this and let it be a comfort, my weakness sometime still lets fear take over.
It’s paralyzing to me to think that my whole world is glass. And that even if I throw no stones, the glass already has plenty of cracks. I was born into it this way.
My best friend could get raped even though she protects herself.
My dad could have a heart attack even though he works to be healthy.
My brother could be bullied at school though nothing he does deserves that.
I could get hit by a car crossing the street to class even though the cars have a stop sign.
And later on…
What if I can’t get employed even with all my degrees and stellar LinkedIn profile?
What if my husband contracts cancer?
What if I miscarriage despite my best efforts?
What if another Great Depression hits?
My thoughts can make me feel so fragile and fearful.
I’ve been asking myself, “Why is wisdom so important if it won’t save me?”
Proverb after proverb seems to promise that hard work will guarantee blessing. That loving God will result in abundant blessing.
But I’ve realized that wisdom is not my safety net.
Remember, our glass worlds already have cracks that our wisest choices cannot mend.
Our worlds make a habit of breaking, giving us cuts and scars and having to be rebuilt over and over again.
"When was this fear born in me? How can I retrace my steps to make my life more stable?"
The moment when I lost a dear relationship?
The moment when college became a reality and even more friendships changed?
The moment when a drunk and thirsty college guy walked down my dorm hall one night?
The moment when my grandma passed away?
The moment when I realized my sadness was actually Depression?
The moment when my lesbian professor wanted to “chat” with me about my beliefs?
How can I fill in at least one of the infinite and growing cracks in my glass world…how can I be safe?
This fear is born when I forget about love; when I forget that life is not safe and that true living resides in the risk.
Specifically, when I forget about trusting a Strong and Perfect Love Who promises to walk before, beside, and behind me as I charge into risk.
That the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. And He is Who saves us. That wisdom’s purpose is twofold: to bless and to remind us of our foolishness and utter dependence on God.
Every time I forget Jesus, the Strong Fortress that is Him disintegrates into transparent fragility.
When I sense danger and my eyes close, I only reopen them to find darkness swirling over my glass house.
I am exposed, I am frail, I am easily cut by the falling shards as darkness penetrates.
I am reminded that even a wise life cannot sustain a world of glass.
Jesus sustains our glass. And we are called to trust His sustenance in our every choice.
As a dear friend shared with me, “The worst that could happen is still in His plan. What do we need to worry about?”
I fall apart and melt in the very hands and under the very gaze of my Savior. Where else is its safer for me to be undone?
One particular night when it seemed like all I could do was quake and wonder, I found enough to control to read Psalm 93.
“The Lord reigns, He is clothed with majesty;
the Lord is clothed,
He has girded Himself with strength.
Surely the world is established, so that it cannot be moved.
Your throne is established from of old;
You are from everlasting.
The floods have lifted up, O Lord,
The floods have lifted up their voice;
the floods lift up their waves.
The Lord is mightier than the noise of many waters,
than the mighty waves of the sea.
Your testimonies are very sure;
Holiness adorns Your house,
O Lord, forever.”
Father, my world is not all glass, it is established by Your power.
Father, because You are strong, my weakness cannot overcome me.
Father, my fear is real and it is mighty, but You are mightier still.
Father, You are sure and You are everlasting.
Though I strive to be wise, wisdom cannot sustain me. Your love is sustenance; Your love is cradling; Your love is sure; Your love is perfect and Your love casts out fear.
Thank You that I am free to be wise, unwise, cut, and astonished by a world that cannot reside out from under Your care.