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Second Week of Lent

Childhood fears are not unusual. I remember being afraid of the dark for a while. I was afraid of playground bullies, dogs, and anything with big teeth. I was terrified of spiders and anything with complex eyes and stingers. But I remember one significant fear I had. I was afraid of looking down into water. I guess I was afraid my glasses would come off and fall into the water. (I started wearing glasses in the first grade.) I also did lose a couple of pairs that way from the top bunk bed. That was when they were made of breakable glass. And upon realizing I risked losing something I needed for daily life, which I was often reminded was not cheap, every time I looked down into anything, I imagined strange and fearful creatures beneath the murky depths, probably waiting to try my glasses on. Eventually I was more fearful of those bug-eyed tentacled sea creatures with scary teeth in the water than I was of losing my glasses.

Childhood fears are soon replaced with teenage fears—the fear of not being liked, of losing friends, of public humiliation, of flunking a test, of getting caught being dishonest, of being different from everyone else. Some of these fears might make sense, to a teenager easily. Some of them we eventually overcome and outgrow. And some of them are replaced with  grownup fears.

We still fear rejection and alienation. We fear failure and getting caught. We fear someone will discover the skeletons in our closet or the wild and crazy thoughts that run amok in our heads. We fear not being able to meet our personal obligations. We fear the criticism of our superiors and the judgment of those in our care. We fear injustice and war, illness and death, infidelity and ignorance, obnoxious people and the quiet whisperings of those who wish us harm. We fear the unknown and the mysterious, the irrational and the absurd. We fear not knowing what’s going on, losing control of our lives and our future, political upheaval, disruptions of the status quo, and the toppling of stable institutions. In the end, we are never really rid of our fears. They just take on new names and become more difficult to explain or dismiss.

Abraham and Sarah did not get to be parents until they were much older. Isaac had become the center of their lives, the ultimate reason for their every move and choice. And the greatest unarticulated fear that lurked within their hearts was that if they were ever careless or inattentive, they might lose him. They would take every precaution to ensure his safety. They would watch him constantly. Life without him would be too terrible to imagine. So when God called Abraham to take his son Isaac on a journey and offer him as a holocaust, I’m sure Abraham was terrified out of his mind. If his son were ever harmed in an accident or suffered some illness, he could at least comprehend cause and effect. But he would never think of harming his own child. It is easy to dismiss this story as just another story, or at best a colorful way to illustrate Abraham’s tremendous faith in God. But it deserves deeper examination. I’m convinced Abraham never told Sarah all the details, or the child would never have been allowed to leave the house. But God took Abraham to the edge of reason and asked him to let go. Despite his unwavering obedience, we cannot overlook the deep anguish he must have suffered on the way to the mountain top. We already know the outcome, that God was testing him, and he passed with flying colors. But would you or I have been ready to trust God as Abraham did? For most people, the road to total trust in God is a long and winding journey. And along that journey, we discover why we are afraid and why God is worthy of trust. Slowly, without understanding all the details, we hand over to God what is most important to us as we gradually learn that all will be safe in God’s care.

When Jesus took three of his closest friends up the mountain, he didn’t give them prior warning. Much unlike with Abraham, this was not the mountain where their faith would be severely tested. But their experience upon this mountain would prepare them for events they never saw coming. Somewhere down the road, Jesus would take them to the edge of reason and ask them to let go. In the meantime, he was trying to help them let go of their fears and trust him completely. The journey they took that day up the mountain reflects our own journey, with our brushes with joy and suffering. Slowly we hand over to God all that is important and trust it would all be safe in God’s care.

We can tell that St. Paul had encountered enough significant challenges in life to write convincingly about putting total trust in God. “If God is for us,” he writes, “who can be against us?” This from a man who suffered persecution and rejection enough times for preaching the gospel, and at the time he wrote this letter to the Romans, was sitting in jail awaiting a hearing before the Emperor. “Who will bring a charge against God’s chosen ones? It is God who acquits us, who will condemn?” In the end, he would go to his death with unwavering confidence in God’s wisdom and power to save.

When we encounter difficulty in life, we might reasonably equate trust in God with deliverance from fear and suffering. And if we did not succeed the way the world sees success, we might assume it was because we did not possess enough trust in God. But faith and trust are not measured by worldly success. God alone rewards faith and trust. Yet if we are intent on following Jesus, we know we will have to walk the road to Calvary. We should remember, too, that the journey to complete trust and faith takes time, and that we might have to climb many other mountains on our way to Calvary.

We will embrace and nurture a great many fears on our journey through life. Every now and then, we will also experience success and deliverance from suffering. But the ultimate test is when God takes us to the edge of reason and asks us to let go. We won’t arrive at the right response easily or without a struggle, not until we are truly convinced we should hand over to God all that is important, and believe all will be safe.

I think I’ve gotten over my fear of staring into deep and murky water. I’m able to jump off a dock and swim in a lake. No big deal. But handing all that is important in my life to God is something I’m still working on. I have seen many people bravely let go of their loved ones in death. Their example of complete trust gives me courage. I know I will have to do something just as difficult and gut-wrenching one day. And I will not hesitate to declare that our loved ones who have gone before us are safe in God’s care. I am sincerely hoping though that I will believe it just as strongly when my time comes, and God slowly takes me to the edge of reason, gently invites me to hand over all that is important, and simply asks me to let go.

Rolo B Castillo © 2024