My Fears.
Fear’s a real head trip for me at times. It messes with me for a day or two.
It doesn’t always come out swinging. Most of the time, it shows up dressed like wisdom. Like caution. Like “I’m just being realistic.”
And I’m not above it.
I’ve let fear run the show more times than I’d care to admit. Quietly. Subtly. From the back row, whispering all kinds of bullshit that sounds almost holy.
I don’t mean fear like “I’m scared of heights or snakes or public speaking.”
I mean the deeper fears.
The ones that slip into how I love, how I lead, how I make decisions and live on the daily.
You know, the ones that dress up like discernment but end up driving people away.
So in the interest of dragging a few of them into the light (and helping a soul or two out there), here are five fears that have followed me around for longer than I care to admit.
»First, the fear of being misunderstood. God help me. I have a stupidly strong desire to be clear and simple and true. I want people to see what’s really going on in me, not just the outline. Not to have to guess.
I’ve spent a lot of years trying to be unmistakably me, and still found myself misread.
That hits something primal in me. Something deep.
I mean, I can take being wrong, no doubt. But being misunderstood? I know that it’s better to seek to understand than to be understood.
The fear underneath it is simple: what if I show up all the way and they still don’t get it?
»Then there’s the fear of wasting my life. Sounds noble, right? Except when it keeps me from rest. Or when it turns my sense of calling into a hamster wheel.
I don’t want to just be busy. I want it to count. I want my life to mean something. And yet that can turn into this anxious inner loop: Am I doing the right work? Is this what God had in mind? Am I building something that really matters. Or just another shiny thing with a mission statement?
Sometimes I forget that faithfulness isn’t flashy. That love (doing the next right thing no matter what) is slow. That maybe I don’t need a bigger platform. Just a more open heart.
»Third one’s a bear: the fear of letting people down. I’m not sure how many times I’ve said YES when I should’ve said, “I don’t have it in me right now.”
You see, my friend, I like being dependable. I like being the calm in the storm. I like being strong. I like being the one you can hand the keys to and not worry.
But there’s a cost when you start building your identity around not disappointing anyone. That’s not leadership. That’s just my ego in drag.
I’ve had to learn (the hard way) that I am not a Savior. And sometimes the most loving thing I can do is say NO and trust God to fill in the rest.
»Then there’s the fear of losing my freedom. This one’s baked into me. I need space. I need air. I need the freedom to choose how I move and love and serve.
But if I’m honest, I’ve also used freedom as a shield.
I’ve held people at arm’s length because I was afraid of getting trapped. I’ve avoided commitments that might have required me to grow up. I’ve pulled away when things got too close, all in the name of staying free.
The ironic thing is that some of the most liberating moments of my life have come from surrender. Not control. Not escape. Surrender.
»And finally, the fear of being powerless. This one breaks me. I’ve walked with people through hell. Through addiction, loss, betrayal, mental illness.
And, I’ve felt the helplessness of not being able to fix it. Of praying and waiting and still watching someone you love fall apart.
That kind of powerlessness will humble you.
I’ve tried to outrun it with solutions. I’ve tried to outtalk it with truth.
But sometimes, the most holy thing I can do is just stay.
Stay when it’s messy. Stay when it hurts. Stay even when I don’t know what to say. That’s love. That’s what I want to continue to learn.
I’m not writing this to be dramatic or to pretend I’ve figured it all out.
Nope. Just the opposite.
I’m writing it because: fear only grows in the dark. And I want more light. I want more courage. I want more room in my heart for grace and less room for performance.
These fears? They still show up. But they don’t get to drive anymore.
And when they do start whispering again, I’ll do what I’ve learned to do. I’ll breathe. I’ll pause. I’ll pray.
And, I’ll remember: perfect love casts out fear.
Not perfect plans. Not perfect leadership. Not perfect boundaries. Not perfect words.
Just love.
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Steve Knox | Tonganoxie, KS
\\\ Confession: I’ve been holding back a bit in these posts. Out of fear. True story. I’ve been afraid of coming across in a certain way. So, you’re gonna get a less manicured version of ‘ol Steverino moving forward. Much love amigo. Until next week. Be honest. Be you.