When I was little, I had night terrors.

Dark rooms, certain patterns, large hairy animals (gorillas were the scariest), and other perfectly normal things would make the world seem like a troubling, terrifying place to me. Those frightening things would send my imagination into overdrive and I would fear going to my little bed to sleep. Covers weren’t enough protection. Pillows only served as weapons the “monsters” could use to smother me in my sleep.

It was a very sad and lonely time for me because my parents, who certainly loved me, didn’t really understand my very real concerns. They would tell me not to be afraid, there was nothing there that could hurt me. Either one or sometimes both would walk me around my room, lifting bedspreads and curtains, opening closet doors and moving shelves away from the wall, trying to show me that there was no real enemy, all in an effort to keep me from being terrified before leaving me to fend for myself in my bed. No matter their reassurance, the threat of monsters in the darkness was still real to me.

Years later, as an adult, I struggled with anxiety and panic attacks. It seemed the monsters of my childhood were still there, but had taken on a different appearance. Now, hairy fanged beasties looked like money worries, illness, relationship issues, and other things that disturb peace. These things became the stuff of nightmares for me. And like me, for many others this past year 2020, was a truly terrifying experience. The monsters were no longer in the darkness after the lights went out…they were walking among us in broad daylight. The fear of disease, unemployment, isolation and violence in our neighborhoods brought many strong minded, God-fearing people, like me, to their knees. Literally.

My fears had begun to conquer me once again. That frightened little girl from so long ago would pull the covers over her head at night and hope the dark would stay at bay long enough for the rays of dawn to chase them away. During all this uncertainty and disquiet, I realized my only hope of survival was to cry out to the Lord. And cry out I did. Every night. Every morning.

And He heard my cries, and pitied every groan.

God wants us to know that the fears we entertain and wrap our minds around come to torment us and keep us in the bondage of an enemy that lies to us and seeks our destruction. When we continue to feed those fears with insecurity, anger, bitterness and unforgiveness, an unrest settles upon our souls and disquiets our spirit. This is the fear that paralyzes us and causes us to bow to its pain. The trauma of this kind of fear affects everything we do and everything we are. There is only one solution that conquers fear like this…love. The perfect love of God, our Father. His love seeks us out and desires to pull us from the dark and shriveled clutches of fear.

Psalm 116 in the Passion Translation eloquently and beautifully speaks about God’s desire to come to our rescue. It says:

“I am passionately in love with God because he listens to me.
He hears my prayers and answers them.
2 As long as I live I’ll keep praying to him,
for he stoops down to listen to my heart’s cry.
3 Death once stared me in the face,
and I was close to slipping into its dark shadows.
I was terrified and overcome with sorrow.
4 I cried out to the Lord, “God, come and save me!”
5 He was so kind, so gracious to me.
Because of his passion toward me,
he made everything right and he restored me.
6 So I’ve learned from my experience
that God protects the childlike and humble ones.
For I was broken and brought low,
but he answered me and came to my rescue!
7 Now I can say to myself and to all,
“Relax and rest, be confident and serene,
for the Lord rewards fully those who simply trust in him.”
8 God has rescued my soul from death’s fear
and dried my eyes of many tears.” (Ps. 116: 1-8, TPT)

I still sometimes feel afraid. I am learning from sitting with the Lord in quiet times that the noise of fear comes to make us forget the love and strength that radiates from our God toward us, His beloved sons and daughters. When the “monsters” stir and the loudness of the world try to distract and torment me, screaming worries and frustrations, I stop what I’m doing, close my eyes and bring my attention to Jesus. Asking Him to rescue me is no longer an act of desperation, but a commitment of surrender. I offer Him all the things that scare me and upset my peace and well-being. In return, He “rescues my soul from death’s fear and dries my eyes of many tears.” And then, all is well and I can rest.

Until the next post…Blessings. vw1.