Can you just choose to not be afraid? Can you just wish away those scary and nagging thoughts in the back of your head? Especially in a time where there are so many uncertainties, it seems like wishful thinking.
It’s no doubt been a tough few months for all of us and I certainly find myself wondering what the rest of this year will look like often. There are times when I feel more hopeful but, inevitably, times when fears and anxieties run rampant.
The bible gives us repeated advice: be not afraid (I once heard that some variation of this phrase is in the Bible 365 times). It was like God knew that we would struggle with anxiety and fear. That we would need to be reminded to trust Him over and over again.
I’ve learned Christ’s invitation to us doesn’t mean we will be spared feelings of anxiety or fear, though. He won’t necessarily remove these feelings (He might sometimes). It’s normal and indeed healthy for us to be afraid of things that can harm us. It’s what can prompt us to act safe and responsible, look out for the most vulnerable, and so on.
But we just can’t will ourselves not to be fearful. So, when God tells us not to be afraid, what does he really mean?
Not to dismiss it but to remember what He has that is bigger than fear—hope. God’s hope is about believing that no matter what happens, God is ultimately working all things for our good. He invites us to believe in His promise to never leave, that He cares infinitely for us, and that our fear will never lead us to despair if we cling to Him.
There are a few things I’ve tried to do over these last few months to remember this. When I’m actively seeking to trust in Christ, to remember that He is ultimately in charge of this entire situation, my fear becomes just a little quieter. Or as the bible says it, my fear-filled burden is lightened.
The first is that I try to pray 30 minutes each day. I’ve worked up to this over the years (and I don’t always hit the mark, unfortunately). Some might only be able to offer five or 10 minutes, while others may already be offering an hour or more. The key, I think, is to simply give God a set amount of time consistently each day to be in His presence. Prayer no longer becomes just something I have to do, but a time to remind myself that I’m not alone in this.
I might recite a rosary, read Scripture, sit in silence, or merely bring Him my fears and frustrations about what’s going on in the world. I don’t always walk away feeling better, but often I do, even if just a little bit. And when I don’t, I trust that somehow, in some mysterious way, God heard me. That God is still present in my life—and with us during this current pandemic.
He loves and knows us individually and particularly: He understands better than anyone else our fears, suffering, and pain. We are not going through this alone.
Something else that has helped me is being mindful of the content and news I’m consuming. I think it’s important to be somewhat familiar with what’s going on so we can act responsibly. Yet, I’ve realized that the majority of what is published doesn’t have a positive influence on my day-to-day life. Often it only stokes fear and anxiety.
What I can control every day hardly changes based on the latest news story. I already know what I need to do: be safe and responsible with social distancing, connect often with friends and family, and stay grounded in Christ through prayer. While I still want to stay informed, when my news prowling causes fear to weaken my relationship with Christ then it’s not doing me any good.
I also think my consumption of content can be an attempt to control something that I can’t. If only I knew the “right” set of facts or “just enough” information, then I might be able to ensure my family and I will be okay. But that’s just not true. Letting go of my need to constantly know what’s happening has allowed me to more easily surrender my fear to a God who is actually in control.
God’s fighting for our good. When I’m able to trust and acknowledge this, I find I’m better able to accept whatever the future holds—and letting go of my desire for false control.
Practically speaking, it means checking the news only every few days is better for me, where I’m able to still be aware of what’s going on without becoming inundated with (mostly) fear-inducing information. But in life, this can mean being wary of what we’re trying to control
The last thing that has helped me is to remember the great saints who have suffered and gone through trials and tribulations—all while keeping their trust in Christ. St. Paul praised God and wrote encouraging letters while a prisoner. St. Maximilian Kolbe offered Mass and sang hymns locked in a concentration camp. St. Roch ministered to the sick and suffering during a pandemic so deadly it’s known as the Black Death. I’m sure each of them at times felt extremely fearful, yet, by leaning on Christ they were also able to both experience and share joy with others.
Saints who have gone through troubling and challenging times (they all have!) serve as great reminders that even in the midst of uncertainty and fear, there is joy and hope in Christ.
It doesn’t mean we won’t wake up some days feeling fearful, stressed, or anxious. But it does mean that with Christ we will never let our fear turn to despair. The saints remind us that God, who loves and cares for each one of us, can and will draw good from our current season of suffering and uncertainty.
