Keep the Faith: 'Fear grabs at us with hungry hands'
I was 2 or 3 years old when my mother began teaching me to pray. It was a precious bedtime ritual before she tucked me in and blessed my little forehead with a kiss. “Now I lay me down to sleep” was the earliest one I can remember. Soon we moved on to the “Our Father” and gradually added a “Hail Mary” and “Glory Be.” Somewhere in there I learned the “Sign of the Cross.” My mom was a gentle teacher.
At school we learned catechism, read stories about Our Lady of Lourdes and young Bernadette to whom she appeared and Our Lady of Fatima who appeared to other favored children. My nighttime prayers with my mother continued but with a twist. As soon as I finished the regular prayers and mom kissed me goodnight, I would remind her not to close the door all the way. I waited in the stillness as my heart pounded like a small fist. My private prayer began.
“Dear God, I love you but you scare me. I’ve been good. But not that good. So please don’t appear to me and please don’t let your mother or any of the saints appear to me either. Please God, no angels either. Thank you, God. Good night. Amen”
We’ve always had honest relationship, God and I. I wouldn’t say we were always exactly cozy, but over the years, we became closer. As time went on, I was intrigued to learn about world religions and spiritual practices. I stopped declaring a denomination and delved into the beauty and wisdom of Buddhism, Islam and Judaism. Humanity declares respect, love and devotion in a myriad of ways. Like the whirling dervishes of the 13th century, perhaps we are all finding ways to dance toward God. As the Sufi Muslim poet and mystic Jalaluddin Rumi taught, “There are many roads which lead to God.”
My long journey still leads me to Jesus. I was received into the Episcopal church when I was 45 and ordained as a priest a few years later. Looking in my rear-view mirror over countless miles, I see that God has been with me always. It sounds cliché, and yet I am flooded with gratitude for a God who never abandons us, even when we abandon God. I am astonished by God’s extravagant generosity in giving us Jesus to show us what love looks like and how we are called to love and serve one another.
Yet today we are inundated by cruel displays of hatred, division and violence. Soul crushing fear amplifies the screams of destruction in this country and all around the world. Our planet cries, shakes and moans.
More than 2 billion people declare themselves Christian. Jesus called on us to be peacemakers, to be the “salt of the Earth,” preserving what is good, flavoring what needs to be enhanced. He said “Judge not that you be not judged.” Turn your attention to what it takes to love one another and away from judgement. Love is a verb.
We are witnesses to the twisted irony of a world where so much is broken; fear grabs at us with hungry hands. Many who identify as Christians spew the toxicity of hatred instead of the unshakable, nonviolent love Jesus lived and taught. Love that isn’t stuck in sentimental notions. Love that sometimes feels like cut glass, like nails in His hands, like a sword in the side.
Yet it is love that can lift us from the dark hole of fear to the light we need and crave, the light that lets us see one another as brothers and sisters, all children of God, the source of love and light.
There were times gone by when a sense of security seemed real. That may have always been illusory, but quotidian touchstones seemed reasonable. As we move into the season of Lent, I pray that we will take a chance and move more deeply into what matters. Love one another through every high and low; believe in the goodness of God in one another. Seek joy! And when you can’t believe, live as though you do. “Love one another as I have loved you; love your neighbor as yourselves.”
What do you have to lose?
Dear God, I love you. We are scared of the world sometimes. Help us focus on what matters. Help us be bold in love and faith. I will turn to Jesus over and over again. His humanity is everything I long to follow. His divinity belongs to you. May we see his love in every face. Thank you God. Goodnight. Amen.
The Reverend Julia Dunbar is the priest at Good Shepherd Episcopal Church in Oxford. Formerly she served as the priest for St. Thomas Episcopal Church Auburn and Grace Episcopal Church Oxford.
This article originally appeared on Telegram & Gazette: Keep the Faith: Love can lift us from the dark hole of fear
