Blogtember: Be Afraid

Today's prompt: Friday, September 6: A story about a time you were very afraid.  

Though there have been so many times I was very afraid, from childhood tragedy of a trial involving my father, to high school fears, and most recent fear of life after D, today I am going to share another story with another kind of fear.

 

It was a Wednesday night this past March. It started out like any other Wednesday City Group, we sat around and ate a delicious meal together and enjoyed the fellowship of others. This night, however, we split into two groups, men and women. We were ready to get real and be vulnerable with each other. So, the guys headed outside and the girls nestled around the dining room table and we began to talk.

 

Katie shared her fear of her grandmother's illness and about her not being at the wedding. She poured out and let us pour into her. Laura shared about her struggles with working in a place with non-believers and how she could share her faith. I sat there and listened. I had not said much at this point at all in group let alone shared anything on my heart. After someone shared, I looked across the table at Kate and it was as if she knew what I was thinking. She nodded at me and smiled. It was this smile like your mother gives, that reassures you that you can do this and all will be ok. I felt Him calling me to tell my story.

 

Every part of me trembled. What would these people think? How would they react to someone who was going through a divorce, who questioned God's love and grace, who had strayed so far from the church and was fighting to find her way back in His arms? Would they judge? Would they even understand? Our group at that time was so young--we were blessed with so many college women just starting their lives.

 

I was so afraid of what they would think, but more of what would happen next. As I began to tell my story, I could barely look up. I was afraid to meet my peers eyes. The tears flowed freely and that's when I realized they weren't just coming from my eyes, but everyone on the room. These women, who some had only met me that night wept for me. They wept for the hurt and pain, for the anger and resentment I harbored. They wept not out of pity, but with me.

 

The words came quickly, and seemed so natural. I poured out to them. I trusted. I can remember Taylor sitting next to me, her sweet soul and warm smile and hand on my back never letting go, never letting me feel alone. It was cathartic. I felt so free, but afraid.

 

When I finished my story I looked up and around at the faces around me. I opened my eyes and saw not disdain, or judgment, but love. These women, these hearts and souls so filled with His love stared back at me with love. Kate prayed for me. I wept more and this time not out of fear or anger, but because I had witnessed God's love and His grace.

 

His grace is powerful, yet so scare for lack of a better word. Its something we cannot understand because its not tangible. We cannot touch it, feel it, taste--not how we think of normal tangibility. But we touch, feel, and taste His grace everyday. Its the smile from a passing stranger, the embrace of loved ones, its found in the quiet moments in the car, the steady pace of my run, and in the start of each and every day when I get to start over.

 

The fear I experienced that night was unlike any other. It cut to my heart and changed me forever. Allowing His love and grace to enter my heart through the smiles and words of a family of believers was the most scary thing I have ever done.

 

 

See how great a love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called children of God; and such we are. For this reason the world does not know us, because it did not know Him. 1 John 3:1