Thunder in the night

The A/C picked tonight to konk out. So we opened windows and the doors leading out on to the deck.

I looked up the number of the guys who’ve come over the years to fix the A/C, so that it’ll be ready in the morning.

And I remembered what they said the last time. “Your system’s old, it’ll crash sometime in the next year or two.”

Great! A new heat pump. Just what we need at this time.

So it’s 3:45 a.m. It’s been thundering and raining for several hours.

I remember when the ground was saturated and we had a cloud burst. Water rose to the front step. Our Camry was totaled.

Fear in my gut.

Almost always in scripture, when angels or the Christ confront someone, they begin, “Don’t be afraid.”

There is a religious awe that’s healthy and positive. The religion of the Old Testament often is called “the fear of the Lord”—the beginning of wisdom. People responded in fear to many of the miracles, a kind of awe recognizing God at work.

A book entitled The Gift of Fear points out the healthy fear that keeps us safe.

It’s a primitive physical response to perceived and actual danger. Humans survived because, when fear alerted them to danger, they took flight or rallied their defenses and fought.

A worn out A/C isn’t a grizzly. Hospital bills won’t thrust a spear through you.

But the body sometimes reacts as it did for thousands of years to such primal threats.

Fear, angst, that paralyzes, that isolates, that fixates on and magnifies negative and harmful aspects of your situation and your future, however, isn’t positive.

Chuck Swindoll (way more conservative than me) has a dynamite series on Acts. His sermon on Paul in Corinth, Acts 17, blessed my life.

We moved to Virginia 20 years ago with much trepidation, leaving a position with limits, a conflicted small town congregation, and going into the unknown, Sandy’s position as pastoral counselor.

As we did the final check of our house before locking the door and driving off in our U-Haul, I found on the floor of the empty bedroom, Swindoll’s tape about making a risky move in faith.

It was a message from God: “Don’t be afraid.” We listened to that tape again and again as we trekked across country.

 One night the Lord said to Paul in a vision, “Do not be afraid, but speak and do not be silent; for I am with you, and no one will lay a hand on you to harm you.”

Acts 18:9-10 (NRSV)

So, tonight, doors and windows open, thunder pounding at the sky, rain falling at times gentle, at times hard—there’s my old friend fear.

Dorothee Sölle (way more liberal feminist than Swindoll) writes about her divorce as a kind of death. She reports going into a church and crying out to God.

A Bible verse came to mind: “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Cor 12:9). But, at first, it felt to her as though God were slapping her down, refusing to help her.

Over time her response changed. She realized that not even death can separate us from the love of God. (Essential Writings, pp. 187-188)

What struck me about this passage in Sölle is how the process resembles the way God comforts-strengthens me, by bringing a verse to mind, for example.

“Here I am, Lord, doors and windows open in the cool of the morning before dawn.

May my heart be open to you.

Calm the fear, stoke the God-courage and God-confidence within me to face the challenge of the coming days.

Why don’t we have a glass of milk together, warmed physically in the microwave, spiritually by your presence!”