Is there any such thing as a silly fear?

What are you afraid of?

That was the question our family pondered together around the dinner table tonight.

• Spiders

• Moldy bread

• Pop quizzes

• Small children who have eaten too much sugar and haven’t had enough sleep (That one is mine.)

And then somebody mentioned clowns.

And everybody was like, “Oh, yeah…clowns…SO CREEPY.”

WHEN DID CLOWNS GO FROM BEING KOOKY TO CREEPY?

Aaron piped up: “2016! That’s when Stephen King’s It came out in theatres.”

But then Gavin pulled up a YouTube video of the famous Bozo the Clown of the 1960s. He sure looked creepy to us, but the crowd went wild for him—in a good way!

Bozo the Clown 1966

I did a little digging and found that creepy clowns go all the way back to 1928, way before Bozo entered the scene.

Weirdly, the baptist church in my hometown used to have a Clown Ministry, of all things. I wish I could find an old YouTube video of that!

The reality is that most fears are irrational. Take that fear of spiders, for example. Less than 1/10th of one percent of the more than 37,000 spiders known to exist are dangerous. That’s crazy! What are the chances that the tiny guy dangling from a thread on my back porch will actually cause me any harm?

It’s ridiculous when you really stop and think about it.

Even on Vacation…

We were in Hilton Head last month and a friend from the gym—an older gentleman— warned me that there was a shark on the loose.

Yep. Those were his exact words—Shark. On. The. Loose.

It became a sort of running joke. All week we laughed about the “shark on the loose” in the great big Atlantic Ocean!

My daughter sent me this photo from one of the beach dives that caters to tourists. Her caption:“I found the shark on the loose!”

I found the shark on the loose!!!

The funny thing is that sharks only kill 6 people per year (on average). I’ve never been too afraid of sharks in Hilton Head, even though (even though!!!) there’s always a guy with a fishing pole reeling one in!

Around town, we mostly see alligators lounging on the grass next to ominous signs warning hapless tourists not to feed them. But even alligators only kill 3 people per year. (Our vacation family told us that.) While their family discussed various hypothetical vacation disaster scenarios, one of the kids discovered an online stat warning that coconuts are far more deadly than either alligators or sharks, killing a whopping 150 people every year!

Who knew?

So why all this talk of fear? Am I scaring you already?

Well, today I read an article about how fear can warp ambition. I don’t think I would have stopped to read the article at all, but I was curious because both fear and ambition are so complicated.

EVERY TIME YOU MIX EMOTION with DESIRE, THINGS GET Pretty COMPLICATED.

Think about it for a second.

Fear can be a good thing.

• Fear signals danger and motivates us to respond to potential threats.

• It heightens the senses and helps us recognize risks to avoid harm.

• Confronting our fears encourages us to step out of our comfort zones and try new things.

BUT…Fear also has a nasty underbelly.

The article I read highlighted the fears of unworthiness, uncertainty, insecurity, and rejection as the things that could undermine ambition. And I get this because in my own life, especially as I’ve gotten older, I’ve allowed fear to cloud what could be healthy ambition.

And WHY? Why have I allowed fear to choke me like that? Have you felt it it too?

I think most fears are the direct result of a lie we’ve believed. Some of us hear these lies and vow that “We’ll show them! They’ll see! One day they’ll be sorry that they ever said THAT about ME!”

But some of us (and I’m talking about myself here), realize much too late that all our lives we’ve been believing something that was never even true. And that thing that we believed might be keeping us from doing our best work. I think it’s the reason why every single women’s conference I’ve ever been to has had one of two themes: Either “I am Worthy” or “I am Enough.” And to be honest, I’ve kind of shunned those conferences because I grew up knowing I was worthy and that I was enough.

But I’m gonna be real honest here: I grew up knowing I was worthy in the same way that I know spiders aren’t scary and that sharks rarely patrol the waters surrounding Hilton Head Island. I know these things to be true, but I’m still gonna scream my head off if a spider falls on my head, and it’s going to have to be a pretty hot day to get me to wade farther than waist deep into those tempting waves.

Seriously…

Who told you you were fat?
Who told you you were ugly?
Who told you you were average?

Who told you that?
But here’s the bigger question:
WHY DID YOU BELIEVE IT?

LIES! LiES!

So the lesson here is: the next time you’re sitting under a palm tree debating about whether or not to wade out into those tempting waves, you better look up first and make sure there’s not a coconut about to drop on your head.

I’m kidding.

THAT IS NOT THE LESSON.

The lesson is that fear is only fear because of what we don’t know. And the truth is that you don’t know what amazing things you might be capable of doing. Until you actually try to do them.

Doesn’t it seem like everybody is a little bit more anxious these days?

Late one night, Gavin and I were talking about how there’s not much we don’t know anymore. I mean, at the touch of a button, we can see where every one of our four kids is in real time. We know exactly what route to follow and even how long it will take to get to them. If I get in the car and plug that address into my GPS right this very second, a kind voice will direct my every move turn-by-turn. I don’t even have to think about it.

It’s crazy to think that just a couple of decades ago, my college boyfriend would drive up from Georgia to Indiana armed with nothing but a map and a prayer—”Lord, help me make good time.” Once or twice he just showed up at my door and didn’t even tell me he was on the way! What if I hadn’t been home? What if I had made other plans? What if something had happened to him on the way?

WHAT IF did not exist. We just lived.

It’s okay not to know what’s next, despite the fact that everywhere I go these days, that’s the question I get asked. We’re scared because we can’t see the future, and we’ve become accustomed to seeing everything in real time. But the thing is—we NEVER see the big picture. We can only see where we are right now. Those maps from the olden days are relics of yore. We know nothing now of hazy landforms or unmarked detours. We’re scared because we’ve been told that the world is a scary place and that we must be VIGILANT. AT. ALL. COSTS.

But maybe, just maybe, sitting in the dark for a little while is a good thing.

I believe a little bit of fear is good for our faith.

Just imagine those two emotions sitting next to each other in peaceful companionship. For a moment, let faith cover fear with her brave, strong hand. Give faith permission to speak truth over the lies that have allowed your fear of the unknown to grow. What wonderful things might you discover if you embarked on such a journey?

I’ve always loved this verse in Hebrews 11:1: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”

What is the lie that’s keeping you from your greatest ambition?

Want more good stuff?

Is it True the Best Things Come to Those Who Wait?

Imagination flourishes in the margins of our lives.

It’s a magical time when anything can be.

If you can dream it, you can do it.
The best things come to those who wait.
Ah, and patience is a virtue.

These are the clichés we all know by heart.

But the reality is that waiting can be hard.

Right this very minute, I’m dreaming of a beach vacation that’s still eight (EIGHT!) months away. Just thinking about the sun on my face brings a smile to my lips. Despite the fact we’re barely out of summer here in Georgia and the leaves here are only just beginning to make the seasonal transition from deepest green to radiant hues of orange and red, I’m imagining the sand between my toes, warm waves lapping at my feet.

Hopeful anticipation brings light to my soul.

Our family has been going to the same resort town for more than a decade. One year, it rained almost the entire time. Not only that, but one of my kids came down with a weird infection which required frequent sheet-washing. Another child, deep in the throes of potty training, tortured us all with her frantic, immediate urges, and one child suffered a short, but potent bout of food poisoning.

Sounds terrible, right?

The best part of that trip was definitely the months I spent looking forward to it.

We didn’t take many family vacations when I was a kid, so instead of dreaming about island getaways, I fantasized about what was for dinner and the cartoons I was going to record on my VCR on Saturday mornings. These things came and went like clockwork. I could count on them.

Then I grew up, became responsible for making my own dinner and discovered the real meaning of the phrase “working for the weekend.” I began a new season of waiting for things like “the one” and tuning my ear to “my calling,” both of which seemed very big and grownup and kind of scary. But kind of fun too.

Waiting suddenly became more than just ticking off the minutes on my bedside clock. My soul carried the full weight of an unknown future, but it was a future bright with possibility.

Back then, I was young and there’s a lot of grace when you’re just starting out on your own and trying to figure things out.

“You’ve got time,” everybody said.

And I did.

But now I’m in my 40s, and everybody kind of already assumes I have it all figured out, so being thrust into the throes of waiting causes a knee-jerk reaction to—how should I say this—PANIC.

Time is not on my side.

But I don’t want to wallow in the wait. Although waiting is hard, waiting can also be good.

What if I anticipated what’s next in my life with the same expectant joy I approach my summer vacation? What if the waiting was the best part of what’s next?

Just because I have to be patient doesn’t mean I’m paralyzed.

June will be here before I know it. And my dreams aren’t passive. We’re saving up for this trip. I’m exercising everyday to prepare my body for swimsuit season. The kids have already analyzed the floor plan of the house where we’ll stay and negotiated the logistics of who’s sleeping where. This is the vacation I anticipate all year, so when June finally rolls around I want to be ready.

One week at the beach is a very small thing compared to that next big career step or decision to abandon what’s comfortable to do something other people might think is crazy. The tension of the in-between is an important time of preparation.

It can also be a time of hopeful anticipation.

I’m reminded of a verse in Zechariah, which brings me great comfort, even though these words were not said directly to me: “Do not despise this small beginning, for the eyes of the Lord rejoice to see the work begin, to see the plumb line in the hand of Zerubbabel (Zechariah 4:10).” 

Indeed, these are the days that will prepare us for a new day.

• If we could re-frame what it means to wait, how would that change our attitude in the midst of it?

• Would we be better equipped to accept what comes, whether it’s what we want or simply what’s next?

• Could we learn to embrace the in-between?

Everybody I know is either waiting on something or waiting for something. Perhaps, like me, you’re hopeful of a new day. Or maybe you’re overwhelmed with a terrible, soul-crushing pain you think will never end. Maybe you feel hopeless about what’s next. Maybe you’re ambivalent because the wait has been longer than you anticipated, and you’re just…tired. You feel like there’s somebody on the other end of an invisible phone cord saying,

“Thank you for your patience. Please stay on the line. Your call is very important to me.”

You’re frustrated because right now seems so much better than five months from now.

Or five years from now.

Or five decades from now.

But if we got everything we wanted right now, we’d miss all that growth that comes from working hard in the midst of what’s in the middle—what’s between the before and after.

“Thank you for your patience. Please stay on the line. Your call is very important to me.”

Stay the course.

Wouldn’t you love to be able to one day say,

“THIS was worth the wait.”

Want more good stuff?

Sign up for my newest 52 week series. It’s all about Identity, something I’m still figuring out. Every week I’ll share a short, inspirational post about something I’ve learned about self-discovery, a Biblical truth I’ve found helpful, and a question or two to help you find clarity, too. You can get it here.