Headlines all borrow from the same playbook, shopping for our next president not unlike shopping for my next pair of glasses. Behind the branding and exorbitant price tag is the same supplier.
And yet, in spite of all the media fear-mongering, what I am afraid of isn't this.
I'm enthralled by an approach towards autism called Relationship Development Intervention to the degree that I'm working towards certification to qualify me to coach parents.
My dream is to bring this life giving approach to struggling families in developing nations, sharing the analogous gospel which restores the Guiding Relationship between God and man not unlike through RDI the child with autism can become a Mindful Apprentice of his parents as originally designed. I'm afraid I can't master the material. I'm afraid I won't have what it takes.
I'm afraid I won't set up the non-profit to bring RDI to the nations, or coordinate with the other professionals necessary to bring hope to those struggling with autism.
And on an even bigger scale, I'm afraid I won't intercede for the children in the slums of Manila, for the refugees fleeing for their lives after horrors too great to disclose, or pray for great leaders like the Minister of Tourism and Sports in Thailand, the lone voice proposing an end to the seedy sex industry there that sacrifices over a hundred thousand of its own women on an altar called economy.
I'm afraid instead, that I'll believe the lie that I'm only part of a small story that scrolls through my Facebook feed, does dishes, washes dirty laundry and wonders what other people may think of me on a day to day basis.
I'm remembering that healthy fear's job is to tap me on the shoulder. To allow me to give pause so I can get my bearings. It is not meant to immobilize me. I'm pushing through the fear and finding it's a crumbly facade that has little foundation.
Psalm 62:1-2 (The Message) reads:
God, the one and only--
I'll wait as long as he says.
Everything I need comes from him, so why not?
He's solid rock under my feet,
breathing room for my soul,
An impregnable castle:
I'm set for life.
I refuse to succumb to fear. Instead, I choose to place my dreams and fears before the Throne, where they belong. And keep moving forward, trusting in His empowerment.
I invite you to join me.