Fear not ...

Since becoming a dad for the first time about six months ago, I’ve had several people ask me the highs and lows of fatherhood. There are hundreds of wonderful things about being a father. Here’s a few of them:

5. My in-laws like me more for the simple reason that I’ve given them a grandson.
4. I’ve learned that a toothless grin can melt my heart.
3. Strangers greet me with smiles when I’m toting my gurgling infant.
2. Knowing that my legacy will be handed down.
And the absolute best part about being a dad:
1. Loving my son.

Of course, there also are some not-so-fun aspects about being a dad, which include:
5. Uncoiling the stinky snake of soiled diapers from the Diaper Genie.
4. The ongoing search for the constantly vanishing binkey.
3. Wondering if he will ever sleep through the night. I’m soooooo tired.
2. Spit up on my back, shoes, pants, car, floors, wife, dog and Aunt Ellen in Oklahoma.
But the worst part of being a dad:
1. Fear. And lots of it.

Struggling with fear is nothing new for me. Sleepless nights began in preschool after my Uncle Tommy tucked me in with the news that America’s next military conflict likely would be a “push-button war.”

“That’s right, little one, Russia has thousands of nuclear war heads pointed right at us. With the mere push of a button, we’ll all be blown to smithereens. Night, night.” Click.

In time, the media replaced my uncle as a main promoter of fear in my life. Headlines and sound bites have continued to make my heart race:

“Jobless rate climbs to new heights”
“Swine flu continues to spread—rapidly”
“Terrorism is on the move”
“(You name it) causes cancer”
“The polar ice caps are melting. We’re all going to drown!”

With the birth of my first son last March, the media’s negative news, combined with my insecurities of being a father, created a gigantic pot of doom and gloom.
Instead of dreaming about how God would use my son for His glory, I was plagued by negativity.

“How will my boy ever make it in this messed up world? Does he even have a chance to be a godly man? Is he still breathing? I better check.”

On July 5, Max Lucado preached a sermon at Southeast that couldn’t have come at a better time. First, he accurately described the problem of fear.

“Fear, it seems, has taken a hundred-year lease on the building next-door and set up shop,” Max preached. “Oversize and rude, fear is unwilling to share the heart with happiness. Happiness complies. Do you ever see the two together? Can one be happy and afraid at the same time? Clear thinking and afraid? Confident and afraid? Merciful and afraid? No. Fear is the big bully in the high school hallway: brash, loud, and unproductive. For all the noise fear makes and room it takes, fear does little good.” Well said.

Max’s message was sinking in. I had allowed fear to unleash a swarm of doubts that had corroded my confidence in God’s goodness.

During a moment of reflection following that sermon, I realized that I had spent countless hours worrying about the smorgasbord of bad news that the media had served up when, for the most part, there wasn’t a thing I could do about any of it.

It’s silly, really, that I’ve tossed and turned when God’s Word is so clear about fear:
“Take courage. I am here!” (Matt. 14:27)
“So don’t be afraid. You are worth much more than many sparrows” (Matt. 10:31).
“Take courage, son; your sins are forgiven” (Matt. 9:2).
“I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough” (Matt. 6:25).
“Don’t be troubled or afraid” (John 14:27).
Fear, Max taught, will always knock on your door. Just don’t invite it in for dinner, and for heaven’s sake don’t offer it a bed for the night.

That sermon helped me avoid the polluted air of anxiety and enjoy God’s blessings—including my son.

Turning off CNN helped, too.