Conquering Fear Pt. 1

They call it acrophobia.  The fear of heights. 

I’m not afraid of heights though. 

The higher, the better.  The higher you go, the more you see.  Greater height, greater perspective. 

As a matter of fact, any city that I’m in, I always visit some of its highest points.  One hundred and two floors above New York City in the Empire State Building observatory.  A thousand feet above Chicago on its 360 TILT.  Six hundred thirty feet up to the top of St. Louis’s Gateway Arch.  With their sweeping views and vantage points, there’s nothing like seeing a city from above itself: concrete jungles and green spaces, businesses and homes, rivers and roadways.  Whether by tram or by elevator, there is such anticipation in the ascent.  I can’t wait to get to the top! 

I think that there’s something about summits, about apexes.  I think that there’s something soul-satisfying about reaching the highest possible point. 

I wonder, perhaps, if there’s an innate desire in us to pursue pinnacles. 

I wonder, perhaps, if a climber’s drive to reach the peaks of the world’s highest mountains, is the same as a child’s to reach the tops of the jungle gym.  My great-niece, Alyssa, a wonder-woman-in-training, inspired me as she tackled various Clip ‘n Climb challenges at our county Family Fun center.  I watched, with awe and pride, as this then-7-year-old, strapped to a harness, first scaled the climbing wall before moving on and mounting the dome chimneys and stairways of heaven.  Not only was Alyssa conquering any fear of physical heights, but she was also I hoped, by default, conquering any fear of mental heights as well.  Contemplating next, some of Alyssa’s steps were met with apprehension.  Caught between the tension of looking down precariously and looking up purposefully, sometimes the fear of wrong movement kept her hanging to a rung “too long.”  But, eventually, she’d take another step up.   

From one challenge to the next, it was easy for me, standing there on the floor, to encourage Alyssa to go higher.  I could see how far she’d come and how close she was to the top.  I could see that, if she didn’t overthink it, if she would just press on, the top was mere steps away.  Sometimes my cheerleading was vocal.  “You can do it, Alyssa!  Keep going! You’ve got this!”  Other times, as I watched her stop and strategize, I kept quiet, giving her silent space to see for herself that she could do it.  I wanted her to learn to believe in her own capability.    

And she did.  Challenge after challenge.  Ultimately, she didn’t talk herself out of reaching her goal, of making it to the top.  She. just. kept. going.

Cheerleading for Alyssa was easy for me.  I love her.  And because of my love for her, I could see in her what she couldn’t, always in the moment, see in herself. 

I’ve found that, however, cheerleading for myself is much, much harder. 

They call it achievemephobia.  The fear of success.

Maybe I’m afraid of heights, after all.

I’m not talking about an income bracket or a title or a position.  I’m not talking about acquisitions.  I’m not even talking about marriage or motherhood.  Although noble, those definitions of success are much too narrow.  I’m talking about what psychology calls self-actualization, the desire to become the most that you can be, the desire to achieve your full potential.  I’m talking about what the gospel calls life and life more abundantly (ref. John 10:10), a life that’s absolutely full, real and genuine, eternal and meaningful, one that’s active and vigorous, blessed and completely devoted to God. 

The people that I know who are afraid of heights say that their fear lies in the potential for falling.  While that is certainly some of it, for the most part, I’m not afraid of falling per se, of failing; I think that my fear is in actually making it to the “top.” 

Let me explain…  With each step of elevation, there’s always excitement and expectation for the expanse that awaits us at the top.  But God’s elevator is a lot like processing.  We don’t just go up, we grow up.  And while we all applaud growth, we don’t always appreciate the pruning that comes with it.  Not only are we leaving the stability and familiarity of the ground, but we’re also being released from habits, relationships and attitudes that stunt God’s purposes for us.  Caught between looking down, precariously, at what was left behind and looking up, purposefully, to the plans that God has for us, the tension sometimes keeps us — fearfully — hanging to a present that is no longer serving God’s best for us.  Sometimes we call it caution.  Sometimes we call it waiting for the right time.  But it’s always rooted in fear.      

Psychologically, fear is treated in one of two ways: either through exposure or cognitive behavioral therapy.  Exposure therapy helps treat phobia by putting the thing before you.  Instead of avoiding the fear, you confront it in a safe environment.  Through cognitive behavioral therapy, a therapist helps you gain a different perspective of the fear by talking and asking questions.  This processing helps you learn to respond better when exposed to the fear. 

Spiritually, I believe that God treats the same way.  He gives us glimpses of the callings on our lives and hints to what He has in store for us.  He exposes us, incrementally, to greater dreams and desires.  He also, through His Word, coaches us through the fear.  “Why are you fearful?  (Matthew 8:26)  You can do all things through Me!  (Philippians 4:13)  Why did you doubt?  (Matthew 14:31)  Press toward the mark! (Philippians 3:12-14).”

I also can’t help but think that God looks at us kind of like I looked at Alyssa.  I say that, not to make God common, but to make Him relatable.  I John 4:18 NKJV (emphasis added) tells us that, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.”  We can be confident that, in His unconditional and unfailing love, Jesus is there, encouraging us to the next level, with the harness of His Spirit holding us as we go.    

If you’re like me, then you might be thinking that you’re not exactly sure where God is taking you.  You might think, even with His glimpses and hints, that you’re still not properly equipped to do what He’s asking of you.  You, like me, may be fearful of the becoming, of the making, of being different.  If so, I want to share a word with you that is helping me.  I recently heard a pastor say that God doesn’t ask for what He hasn’t already given.  If He’s asking you to give it, do it, or be it, it’s because He’s already placed “it” there. 

A lot of times I have been disappointed in myself for being fearful, for succumbing to its power to keep me stagnant.  But fear is part of the human experience.  And I’m learning that conquering it is not necessarily trying to be fearless, but choosing instead to live our best lives in spite of it and to just take. the. next. step.  Despite quivering voices and knocking knees, we’re capable.  You and I are cities set upon a hill.  We cannot be hidden. 

PRINCIPLE: Therefore I remind you to stir up the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.  II Timothy 1:6-7 NKJV