The old fear. An ancient fear so utterly captivating, that it has defined you from the very first day you can remember anything at all. Who put this fear inside of you?
What if you stopped having fear because you knew you couldn’t die? That God wasn’t about to punish you angrily for not living and dying sin-free after asking His Son into your heart? Or, that God wouldn’t punish you angrily even if you hadn’t properly invited His Son into your heart?
Fear that begets violence. Fear that paralyzes you. Fear that makes you keep committing the same sins–sins against yourself and others, that will prevent you from ever becoming the man you were made to be.
It is so easy to understand that the fear is there, and know a thing or two about it. But how about the way the fear causes you to crumple up when you go out, so that you try to avoid and ignore neighbors, pretending you just didn’t see them? Fear that causes you to completely shut down if someone in a group criticizes you or contradicts you, so that you spend the rest of the semester in the back of the class just getting by?
Fear of removing the fear and revealing a man who is less than the macho men held up in high regard by your society, but is more of a man than the worm you used to be, and has to keep on being that man even when there is the possibility you will get your ass kicked?