Fear Not, I Am With You

When Fear Tries to Destroy, God will win.

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
— Exodus 14:14

I’ve always been a fighter.

Being the youngest and only girl in my family has shaped me into quite a feisty individual: the one who gets things done, figures it out, never stops moving, and picks a fight just to find the answer. In fact, it took Leukemia to cause me to actually slow down and cease striving. My journey really brought to life the verse, “He makes me lie down in green pastures”. God truly had to make me lie down, and I only acquiesced because I was unable to stand.

When the words, “Living Will,” “Advance Directive,” and “Power of Attorney” are on the paperwork the hospital staff hands you, the word “death” jumps from the page imprinting its permanence and inevitability on your soul. There is an almost suffocating fear that swells up within you. No strength you have can fight it. Waves of dread rush over you one, after another, after another. Suddenly a weight presses on your chest stealing your breath as you grieve what is likely lost and what will be left behind unfinished. I liken this moment to when you first put on noise-canceling headphones. The sounds of ordinary life you were unknowingly accustomed to, the clatter and chatter you did not even know were there, fade away. Everything around you goes mute. An eerie and heavy silence becomes loud. Even though the world around you continues to spin as it had, you are now sealed off, outside of it, alone. There is only solitary quiet and a focus you did not seek out.

I can remember before my hair all fell out mindlessly shaving my legs, as I had done my entire adult life as a woman. I suppose I wanted to feel normal for a moment, to feel beautiful. But as the blood trickled down my leg, as the chemotherapy had lowered my platelets and weakened my skin, I whimpered, “What’s the point?” There was no longer any room for vanity. Normalcy was gone. All there was room in my heart and mind for was survival, Jesus, and whatever He called me to. This battle was his, to win and to fight.

The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. 

Faith is forged in the fires of suffering

Many encouraged me throughout my journey of having strong faith, but I can tell you this was not the case. If there is any strength within me now, it did not come in some thunderous revelation. It was not my first instinct. Intuitively, I doubt, I fear, I question, just as we all do. But faith is built brick by brick. It is forged in the unwanted fires of suffering and loss. Truths become real as they are brought to mind from the word of God, heard in worship songs, and recalled from memorized verses, from friends who texted at just the right time, through strangers sent from God, and in visible reminders the Holy Spirit puts around us. For me, one of these visible reminders was a sloth given to me by my children, that was a stand-in for their hugs, as I lived apart from them during treatment. He held me close, and would never let me go.

God didn’t remove my fear immediately, He slowly and faithfully drove it out with presence. I was not strong, not for a moment. I was fragile, weak, raw, and helplessly dependent. God used my physical weakness to teach my soul of my spiritual weakness. And here’s what I know now: for God to win, my strength is not required.

Not when you belong to the One who fights for you.

What’s required is trust. Not perfect faith — but just enough to be still and let Him hold you, as He fight for you.

For the One Who’s Afraid

If fear has made its home in your hospital room, your diagnosis, your failing marriage, your seemingly hopeless parenting, your wanting or your waiting…

You’re not broken; you are simply human. And He is showing you of your need for His strength, His might. You are never alone.

Ask Him to be near. 

He is near. 

Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.

He doesn’t always calm the storm. In fact, if you read Mark 4 carefully, He often directs our path straight into the storm intentionally. Perhaps He does this to show us His might. But regardless of the storm’s length and intensity, always, He is with you in the boat.

In my storm, he did not shame me for being afraid. He stayed and carried me. When I had no words left, He whispered the ones I could not find:

I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

And He did.

And He always will.

—Rachel