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Afraid of God

Recently I was made to stop and think when I read again the story of Legion, the tormented man (Luke chapter 8). It really is a strange one. This notorious, violent madman, living half naked among the tombs and out of his mind, is miraculously and instantaneously restored to normality by Jesus. For a long time the whole neighbourhood had lived in fear of him. So you would expect them to react to his healing with joy and relief. Instead, they simply tranferred their fear to the one who brought about his deliverance, and begged Jesus to leave the region.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (Proverbs 9: 10). But there is also a fear of God that's unhealthy and inappropriate.  And I came to the conclusion that I'm guilty of it, too.

My walk with Jesus has not been a straight one, and at times I've been guilty of misapplying faith. Sometimes through simple of errors of judgement. Sometimes when I've attempted to use it as a tool to try to get what I want. The unintended side effect has been disappointment. And past disappointments lead to present fear of future let-downs.

So, too often I'm afraid to trust God. I'm afraid he will ask me to do things that are difficult and painful. I'm afraid that he won't care for me when I really need it. With the NHS in crisis that matters, because my first port of call in a health crisis can't be relied upon, either. I'm afraid that he won't always provide what I think I need. That's actually true and completely reasonable - because some of what I think I need, I can manage without. But I don't want to concede that.

Fundamentally, I'm afraid that if I let go and give God more control of my life, it won't turn out the way I want it. I'm afraid he's not as good as me. I think I can manage things best, and my plans are more likely to come to fruition if I take care of them myself. Honestly, past experience should teach me otherwise. But it doesn't seem to work like that.

So, like the people in the region of the Gerasenes, I ask him to leave. I just want to get on with my own life in my own way.

And the really sad thing is, he did. He got into the boat and left. And as far as we know, he never returned. They heard him no more, and saw no more of his remarkable work.

It amazes me that Jesus, in his grace, continues to accept me and work with me in my areas of genuine faith, despite my lingering mistrust in others. And I can't really fault what he does. I don't have an answer yet for the fear that remains. But I know that recognising it and confessing it is the first step I have to take. And I know that the one who opened my eyes to see it can also set me free, just like the man amongst the tombs.

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