The Lens of Fear.

Talking about the "lens" through which we view the world is such a cliche, tired concept. While I hope to arouse it from its sleep, I could just as easily force it into a deeper slumber. By the end, you can let me know which route this blog goes.

I had a weird realization when I first moved to South Carolina. As it turns out, I picked up a lot of weird idiosyncrasies during my time in Chicago. While in Chicago, I had a different mode of interacting. Through a series of weird events (some imagined, some real), I learned a lot about myself. I learned how I would react if I ever was threatened, if my house was broken into, if I was followed, if I thought I was about to get caught in gunfire...

Living in the city where these things were possible, my first reaction was to learn "street smarts". Street smarts to some means little more than being cunning and shrewd. To me, street smarts meant learning how to view every situation as a potentially deadly one.

I learned that anytime I walked by a storefront or an abandoned building, to catch a glimpse of the window in oder to see in the reflection if I was being followed. I could easily monitor the activity of the person behind me through brief window reflections. I learned to walk on whichever side of the sidewalk was closer to the street - less chance of being grabbed into an alley or a deep-set doorway of a building. I remember on one particular occasion being grateful for all the broken liquor and beer bottles along the sidewalk. In a pinch, a shard of glass could become a weapon of self-defense.

I learned to walk in a way that conveyed that even if I didn't look like I belonged, I looked like I thought I belonged and that I would be willing to go great lengths to prove it.

While in Chicago, I wrestled with these dynamics. I didn't want to live through a lens of fear. I wanted to live in faith but not without wisdom. I still have a hard time discerning when fear is harmful or when it is wisdom.

...In truth, I think that fear stops shy of wisdom, always. If we don't have wisdom, fear can help guide decisions, while at the same time gripping us and making us its slave. I think wisdom can lead to the same decisions, but always results in greater freedom.

I've been in some weird situations. While in Chicago, I dealt with a lot of fears and I think developed more wisdom as far as navigating very real, tangible possibilities. I didn't realize, though, how much the fear altered me on a foundational level until I moved here.


I realized it when I felt compelled to stare at people in public until they turned away first. I realized it when I was caught off guard when they simply waved in response. I realized it when I didn't wave back because I didn't know what to make of a "wave". Suspicion had become my dominant mode of interaction with strangers. And here I was, transplanted back to the South. You'd have thought I had never experienced Southern hospitality before.

I recognized the underlying fear when I heard a car's brakes screeching and I braced for gunshots in response. Or when I heard voices yelling and expected it to escalate to physical violence or, again, gunshots. When I almost threw myself to the ground because I heard a loud noise and wanted to duck for cover.

Fear is easy to cultivate. Like a fungus, it will appear sometimes in places you don't expect, without your permission. But if you actively provide a moist, shaded environment, it will grow and spread easily. If we cater to our fear, it will become the dominant mode of our interaction with the world. News networks know this and they know the allure of it. They seize it and drive it. Insecurities? Um, yeah. I work in the dermatological field (which puts a grosser spin on the whole "fungus metaphor"), and I know how fear drives people to decisions that are unnecessary, uneconomical, and uncomfortable. Fear is powerful.

I know it when I walk the streets in Chicago. I know it when I walk the streets here. I know it when I think about my future. I know it when I view others with suspicion rather than the hope of trust, with insecurity rather than humility, with judgement rather than acceptance, with tolerance rather than love.

Yeah, fear is powerful. But love conquers all. It's unfortunate that we so often paint fear as love, or say that our fear is for the sake of our love. Or worse yet, that fear is the proof of our love.

Thank God that Jesus didn't love us for fear's sake. Thank God that "perfect love casts out fear". May we be so bold to emulate that kind of love, whatever the cost.