Fear & Faith

When was the first time you realized you were feeling fear?
Strange question, isn’t it?

I found myself thinking about it this week. I can clearly remember learning to tie my shoes—an older girl taught me when I was about three. I remember my first college basketball game (Memphis State and Keith Lee), and I definitely remember my first concert. A little embarrassed to admit it, but it was Steven Curtis Chapman. My second concert? RUSH—and they opened with Tom Sawyer. Now that was epic.

There are so many “firsts” I can recall. But the first time I felt fear? I have no memory of it.

Don’t get me wrong—I remember plenty of moments filled with fear. My first day of kindergarten? Terrifying. I cried my eyes out.
Singing a solo at church when I was eight? A disaster. I forgot the words and froze while the tape accompaniment kept playing.
And later in life, my first panic attack—I thought I was having a stroke. We had just moved to a new city. My wife was trying to find the hospital, but we couldn’t. First responders met us in a Kroger parking lot. They had me breathe into a brown bag to get my hyperventilation under control. I’ll never forget when one of them said, “Sir, we believe you’re having a panic attack.”

So yes, I’ve felt fear. I just can’t pinpoint the first time.

Why is that?

I think it’s because fear is so woven into daily life that it feels like it’s always been there. It shows up in big ways and small ones—sometimes overwhelming us, other times lurking quietly in the background. We suppress it, ignore it, or try to drown it out with entertainment, food, sex, drink—whatever helps us feel in control.

Fear is defined as “an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or poses a threat.”
And here’s the kicker: studies suggest that 95% of the things we fear never actually happen.

FDR famously said, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Yet, we still fear.

Why?
Because fear is rooted in belief. It’s not always about what has happened—it’s about what we believe might happen. And that belief can feel very real.

So how do we find relief? How do we hold onto hope in the midst of fear?

The Scriptures invite us to believe differently.

In Isaiah 57:11, God asks,
“Whom did you dread and fear, so that you lied, and did not remember me, did not lay it to heart? Have I not held my peace, even for a long time, and you do not fear me?”

God is calling His people away from idols—not to control them, but to invite them back to the true source of peace and hope.

The call is echoed throughout Scripture.
In Isaiah 43, God says, “Do not fear… I am the Holy One of Israel… your Savior.” Again and again, God invites us to stop placing our trust in created things and instead look to Him.

And in the New Testament, the invitation goes even deeper: God doesn’t just call us to Himself—He comes to us. Through Jesus’ incarnation, death, and resurrection, we’re invited to bring our fears into His love, peace, and rest.

As 1 John puts it:
“There is no fear in love. Perfect love drives out all fear.”

That’s an invitation to believe differently—not to deny fear, but to place our trust in the One who faced the ultimate fear of the cross… for us.

Personally, I want to keep growing in that kind of faith and hope.

As hymn writer E.E. Hewitt beautifully said:

My faith has found a resting place,
From guilt my soul is free;
I trust the Ever-living One—
His wounds shall plead for me.

I need no other argument,
I need no other plea;
It is enough that Jesus died,
And that He died for me.