Overcoming Fear

This story is based on a traditional Buddhist understanding of dealing with fear

The Monster Called Fear

Once upon a time, there was a giant monster that stood between the people and the sun.

It was enormous.

Its shadow stretched across the whole land until everything seemed dark and cold. The creature roared day and night, shouting threats that echoed like thunder. The more people listened to its voice, the larger the monster seemed to become.

Most people did what you would expect.

They hid.

Some ran away.

Others simply sat down where they were, convinced there was nothing they could do. After all, how could anyone stand against something so huge and so terrifying?

But among all those frightened people was one woman who decided to do something different.

Instead of running away from the monster, she began walking toward it.

One slow step at a time.

The people cried out to stop her.

"No! Don't go near it!"

"It will destroy you!"

"Can't you see how enormous it is?"

But she kept walking.

Then something very strange began to happen.

With every step she took toward it, the monster became just a little bit smaller.

At first no one noticed.

But before long, rays of sunlight began slipping around the edges of its shadow.

The closer she came, the smaller the monster became.

Its booming voice softened into a growl.

Its growl faded into a whisper.

Its towering body shrank until it was no taller than a tree... then no taller than a child... then no bigger than a rabbit.

Finally, the woman stood right in front of it.

The terrible beast that had once darkened the whole earth was now so small she could pick it up with both hands.

She held it gently and smiled.

Then she asked,

"Tell me, oh monster... what is your name?"

The tiny creature looked up at her. Its voice was so faint she could barely hear it.

"My name..." it whispered,

"is Fear."

I've often thought that's exactly how fear behaves in our lives.

From a distance it looks enormous. It blocks out the light, fills our imagination, and convinces us that it is so much bigger than we are.

But when we stop running away from it, begin walking toward it, and face it honestly - with God's help - we often discover that it never was as large or as powerful as we imagined.

Fear always grows in the distance.

Trust grows as we draw near.

And as trust grows, fear has a remarkable way of shrinking until it no longer stands between us and the light.

Now, let me be clear about something.

I'm not suggesting that there are no real dangers in life. There are.

Illness, accidents, natural disasters, violence, and countless other challenges are part of the human experience. Wisdom calls us to recognize genuine risks, take appropriate action, and care for ourselves and for one another.

But recognizing danger is very different from living in fear.

Fear has a way of growing far beyond the situation that first gives rise to it. Left unchecked, it begins to color the way we think, the way we make decisions, and the way we see the world. Before long, we begin expecting the worst, imagining problems that haven't happened, and carrying a constant sense of uneasiness that never seems to go away.

Many people know exactly what that feels like.

It's the knot in the stomach that won't disappear.

It's lying awake at night, rehearsing everything that could go wrong.

It's the constant feeling that there won't be enough - enough time, enough money, enough security, enough health, enough certainty.

Fear is exhausting because it asks us to live in a future that doesn't yet exist.

The more we feed it, the larger it becomes.

And, as we saw in the story of the monster, the larger fear becomes, the more it blocks out the light.

When fear begins to dominate our thinking, it quietly steals some of life's greatest gifts. It robs us of peace because our minds are always racing ahead to the next possible disaster. It keeps us from enjoying the present moment because we're preoccupied with what might happen tomorrow. It makes gratitude difficult because we're constantly focused on what we don't have instead of what we do.

Perhaps saddest of all, fear changes the way we relate to other people.

Instead of being fully present with those we love, we become preoccupied with our worries. Our conversations become centered on our anxieties instead of our hopes. We spend so much energy trying to protect ourselves from imagined futures that we miss the joy of the relationships we have right now.

That's why overcoming fear isn't simply about feeling better.

It's about reclaiming the life God intends for us to live.

A life grounded in trust doesn't deny reality. It simply refuses to let fear become the loudest voice in the room.

So, how do we begin to overcome fear?

For me, one of the most reassuring passages in all of Scripture comes from the Twenty-third Psalm.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me."

I've always been struck by one small word in that verse.

The psalmist doesn't say we stop in the valley.

He says we walk through it.

The valley is real.

The shadows are real.

The uncertainty is real.

But the valley is not our destination.

It's something we pass through.

That reminds me of the story of the monster called Fear. From a distance, it looked enormous. It seemed capable of blocking out the sun itself. But as the woman drew closer, the monster became smaller and smaller until she discovered that it had far less power than she had imagined.

Fear often works that way.

It casts a much larger shadow than its actual size.

And shadows, by their very nature, cannot exist without light.

The psalmist's confidence wasn't based on the belief that nothing bad could ever happen. It was based on something much deeper.

"You are with me."

That's the heart of spiritual trust.

Every one of us, sooner or later, walks through valleys. We experience loss, disappointment, illness, uncertainty, grief, and seasons when we wonder what lies ahead.

But we never walk those valleys alone.

However we come to know and experience God, God's presence goes with us. Sometimes we recognize that presence immediately. Sometimes we only see it when we look back and realize we were being carried in ways we didn't understand at the time.

Over the years, I've come to trust that truth.

Not because life has always gone the way I wanted, but because, somehow, God has always been present through every valley. And when I reached the other side, I often discovered that I had grown stronger, wiser, more compassionate, and more trusting than when I entered.

That's why I don't believe fear prepares us to deal with adversity in any way.

Fear simply teaches us to expect defeat.

Hope, trust, and love are the qualities that give us the courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other, even when the path ahead disappears into the shadows.

And sooner or later, every valley opens once again into the light.

So, regardless of what may be happening in your life right now, give yourself permission to smile.

Go ahead and laugh.

Sing if you feel like singing.

Dance if the music moves you.

Take time to enjoy the people you love and the beauty that still surrounds you.

None of those things will make you any less prepared to face life's challenges. They won't weaken your ability to deal with adversity or diminish your courage when difficult days come.

In fact, they do just the opposite.

Joy, gratitude, laughter, and hope strengthen us for the journey ahead. They remind us that our lives are far bigger than our fears and that God's goodness is still present, even in difficult seasons.

The only thing those moments of joy really threaten is the fear monster.

And every time we choose trust over fear, hope over despair, or gratitude over anxiety, that monster grows just a little bit smaller.

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