The Opposite of Faith is Fear

“The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore your eye is good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in you is darkness, how great is that darkness!

“No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.

“Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

“Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?

“…But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:22-27, 33-34

I read this morning that the opposite of faith is fear. That fear is the notion that God’s love will end. That it will not be enough. I read also that the true disciple is the grateful one. That eucharisteo always precedes the miracle. “Thanks is what builds trust” (Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts).

It is so true, all of it. And why then, am I so slow to trust, to build my life on thankfulness and rest? I can look back on a long journey of moving from worry to worry, fear to fear. At every single point You provided, You answered with love. Some of the seeing took longer to come, true. But can I not hold every one of those memories now and say You were there, loving me as always, holding me tight as always?

Yet here I sit this morning bound up by fears and worries.

I will not have the strength for today. I’m just too tired.
Sylvia is NEVER going to sleep!
I’m failing my kids. How will I ever get this right?
I can’t get it all done.
I have taken on too much work. How will I ever grade all those papers AND care for the kids AND do the housework AND AND AND…?
I am not serving enough, loving enough, doing enough.

ENOUGH! Aren’t these fears all bound up in future moments, today and years from now? Am I not saying that the God who has been enough for me through all the yesterdays will somehow fail me today, tomorrow?

My eye is full of darkness. The light that is in me is not light at all. It is heavy, a weight, an oppressive burden.

I gaze out the window at the majestic snow-covered peak that still takes my breath. I will lift up my eyes unto the hills. From where does my help come?

I can hear the morning song of birds, rejoicing in spring. Two of them flit about in the yard, oblivious to my gaze, full of life and busyness. They are fully in the moment. Do the birds sit around worrying that tomorrow they will not have enough? Do they allow an uncertain future to steal today’s song? And why is it so hard for me to learn the trust that is theirs so naturally?

Worry does not add one cubit to my stature. It diminishes me and all those around me. Thankfulness builds me up, turns my gaze back to the One who has promised to always, always be enough.

Thank you that each day of Ben’s month-long absence, I have had enough for the kids. Even when I felt I was not going to make it, I did.
Thank You that You always give me just enough sleep.
Thank You for extra summer jobs that provide…and for the time and energy to complete them.
Thank you for the forgiveness of my kids, their simple trust and love.
Thank you that just when I most needed to hear from my husband, he called…even though he wasn’t supposed to call until next week.
Thank you that I do not have to worry about tomorrow or even today. There is only the now, living fully in You each moment.
Thank you for grace for this falling, failing child.

Ann Voskamp says that trust is a discipline. It is reining in the wild fears, taming the mind. A moment-by-moment work. This is why we are commanded to give thanks at all times. If the opposite of faith is fear, the pathway from fear to faith is gratitude. And I am learning that gratitude is a discipline, not an emotion, a way of seeing that requires choice.

I will choose You this moment. Let my path become one of trust instead of worry, thanks instead of fear.

Spring Snow

May 11, and the snow is falling in buckets. I have been watching it all day, heavy and wet, blanketing everything in thick white promise.

A few days ago we were wearing shorts and sunscreen, splashing around in the river, anticipating summer. Now I’m hauling out the shovel and snow boots.

Maybe I should be frustrated and annoyed. More winter? Haven’t we had enough? But I am filled instead with a strange, quiet gladness. Looking out the window, I sense this from the earth, too—she is offering herself up, accepting this cold blessing as a promise of what is to come. I can almost feel the soil greedily absorbing every snowflake. And the trees almost seem to be raising arms in praise as they are clothed in purest beauty. I can feel life pulsing, rejoicing, ready to burst through into eternity. The bird singing in the tree outside my window feels it, too.

We will plow and shovel, wade through slush and slop, deal with the ensuing mud and mess, putting away the shorts for another day. In a few days this quiet gift will be gone and the world will come roaring and spitting back to life around me. But it will be softer, greener, more robust and alive than ever.