Freedom from Fear in Forgiveness

Why are you afraid?

This is the question Jesus asked his disciples when their boat was in a storm. It always sounded solely like a rebuke to me, but not anymore; it is a critically important question and a key to discerning our spiritual health at any given time.

Why are you afraid?

Why, specifically?

Are you afraid that you are going to die?

Why be afraid to die? The answer seems self-evident, but it is not. The fear of death is exaggerated by multiple unexamined fears bundled together, many of which we can do something about. The number one fear I have witnessed in 12 years of coffinmaking is:

Fear of not having sufficiently loved the people in our lives.

If you are alive (and you are, regardless of how much less so you might feel than you once did) you can step up your love for the people in your life right now. Tell them you love them, definitely, but also forgive and ask forgiveness where needed. To forgive someone, whether you believe they “deserve it” or not, is to lay down a part of your life for another.

Forgiveness is an act that requires, and builds, faith.

It is the highest form of love and it will set you free.

There have been many sober people who were not afraid to die. None of them held a grudge. Rather than dissipate the time we have left with distractions, let’s attempt to clearly see, and then take practical steps to resolve, just what exactly it is that we fear.

In Christ Fear has no Real Power Over Us

It is frightening the power we give fear over us. Is that a redundant sentence? The way it feeds on itself and grows and snowballs -- given the not infrequent weakness of our minds -- especially when our fear filter is being blasted at by outside forces that monetize our anxiety… Yikes!

What can be done to defend against this onslaught and to hold onto and even grow our sanity? Trust in Christ. That is all we can do. Everything else falls short.

Don’t tempt the darkness by making foolish decisions but don’t hide from it either. Face it head on with the words “Jesus I trust in You” in your heart and on your lips. God’s providential care for you is stronger than any force in the world -- way stronger even than the forces that appear to have the power to destroy your life.

Now is a time for great courage from us average men and women. Repeat the words “Jesus I trust in You,” over and over again and offer a smile to the people you encounter, they are made for Heaven, too. If just a few of us commit to doing this every single day we will stem the tide of fear and help make way for a brilliant dawn to break. God bless you in whatever you are struggling with today.

Jesus I trust in You!

Be Clam!

God has called us to Scranton. I’ve been told that Scranton is just Boston without clams, but then Kelly and I went to dinner at a pub on Saturday and ate clams, so now I am disoriented; shellfish farms and trucking continue to blur the distinctions that once allowed us to tell ourselves we knew exactly where we were.

Wherever we are, we are here to amplify our little voice that the darkness has not and will not overcome the light -- we are building an east coast shop for Marian Caskets because about half of the people who contact us now are on this side of the Mississippi and our usual methods of shipping have presented new challenges over the past eighteen months.

Scranton is great. Maybe all our kids will be president. We are more or less in the city which is quite the counterpoint to our 20 years on Vashon Island. The crickets are louder, as are the sirens and church bells, but the birds are quieter -- except for the three immortal ring-necked doves we have in our bedroom. Last night I was awakened by a tremendous thunderstorm shaking the house. Half of our kids slept through it, half did not. The violent majesty of the thunder and the rain that tested our roof made me grateful for the defenses we have, moreso for the heightened alertness elicited by my slight uncertainty as to whether said defenses would prove sufficient.

One should not put one’s faith in a building, especially one that one has just moved into, but one might have enough experience, over enough time, to recognize that things usually turn out better than one fears. Then, have a little gratitude and proceed accordingly.