Common Chub
Nearly Three

Be Gone With You

I realize that in my attempt to avoid long-windedness for a change, my last post entitled Common Chub easily lent itself to confusion without a few words of context. On the left is a picture of Brennan when he was eight weeks old and on the right is Kensington. Kensie is shy a little chub (Brennan has always been in the 95th percentile for both weight and height, and petite Kensie is in the 25th percentile for both). But they still show some striking resemblances.


It’s time to look fear straight in the eye and say, “Be gone with you!”

I have long recognized how fear has gripped my life and brought me to a screeching halt. Interestingly enough, I would not describe myself as a fearful child, but the grip of fear, slowly but steadily, wrapped around me through the years. I am in a choke-hold that affects nearly every decision and word. Even now, I am at a loss for words because I feel they will be inadequate. Learning to write these posts for an audience of One versus you whose faces I know and don’t know, despite how dear you are to me, is one of the many ways my fear plays out. How so?

Well, for one, the fear of what people will think of me. Will I say the right things? Does this offend someone? What do they think of me as a parent? Do they approve? I can’t admit that to her; she wouldn’t want to be my friend. It is rather a pitiful existence to be bent on trying to please others out of a fear of what they will think of me. Exhausting as well, fraught with worry.

How else does my fear play out? The fear of being insignificant. Oh, how the accolades of elementary through high school were somewhat of a disservice to me. The fear of not being known or recognized, successful, important in life. The fear of not mattering or making a difference. And why is it that we feel like we must be famous or well-known to make us more significant in life?

Add to that a fear that rattles my core: the fear of failure. Messing up time and time again with our budget. Not being faithful in praying and having time with Jesus. And don’t get me started about an overwhelming fear of failing as a mother. I don’t have a clear picture in my mind of all the ways I’d declare and define myself as a failure as a mother. I just know I fear messing up so badly.

On another finger in which I count my fears, I name the fear of loss. I have a wrong image of God that contradicts who He’s proven to be in my life and who He says He is in His Word. I need this picture of Him to change, and I want it to change. Until then, I stand in fear of what He will allow to sift my life. What losses in the way of death, financial ruin, or aloneness for example, will He allow to make me more like Him?

As a result, my hands are out in arm’s length letting Jesus in only so far as to (hopefully) not get hurt. I’ve grieved, and there’s so much in life I don’t understand (and that I’ve questioned). So much loss that is painful to go through and watch loved ones endure, but I stand in awe of His goodness. For the God of compassion, kindness, and faithfulness that I know Him to be, how could I stand afraid of Him?

This post is out of a response to Angie Smith’s request to join in the special {in}courage community preparing to read her new book, What Women Fear: Walking in Faith that Transforms, by answering the question: What are you afraid of? I hope to journey with the other women online reading this book and offer you the invitation to join us as well. May we be given a fresh dose of courage to step out and allow the Lord to work in us, so that we may testify that truly, “Fear has gone, freedom has come!”

Simply trusting,


I always love your comments. In fact, I hate to admit how much I check to see if I’ve received one <grin>. For this post though, I am opting to close comments. Much love to you!


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