Four years ago today a horrible thing happened. A little boy who was playing with his friends and thinking of nothing but fun and laughter, died in the most heartbreakingly, tragic accident. A little boy who was, from all accounts, rambunctious and silly and whose parents surely dreamed of his future and loved him endlessly.
A little boy who was only slightly older than my little boy is now.
Every year it’s hard to pass this day by without a deeply heavy heart and wonder how a parent could ever survive that kind of pain. Even after sitting on the threshold of losing a child last fall, frozen in a hospital hallway and envisioning myself as “one of those parents,” I still can’t fully imagine the doctor walking out and delivering news far worse than what we got.
Maybe the hardest part of secondary tragedy is the fear of it becoming your own. The “what if’s” can chase you down and sit on your chest; make it hard to breathe or move. Fear is paralyzing and I can feel the mist settling on me now. I try to fight it, try to wipe it away, but it’s everywhere and it’s invisible and it multiplies quicker than I can clear it.
But I know by the way it steals all air and joy and lightness from the room that it is not from the Lord, it is not (and never will be) what he desires for me. Therefore I must find a way to reject it, and the only way I know how to keep from drowning in the rising waters of it’s lies is to cling to the words that are strong enough to buoy me to the surface.
Isaiah 43:1-2
But now, this is what the Lord says—
he who created you, Jacob,
he who formed you, Israel:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
But now, this is what the Lord says—
he who created you, Jacob,
he who formed you, Israel:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
He doesn’t suggest it, doesn’t even give an “if then” promise. HE DECLARES IT. He HAS. He IS. He WILL BE. He creates truth and fact because he is the author of our story, and all creation is exactly as he says it will be. Who am I to reject that which is concrete and unchanging; to question the only certainty that will exist for all eternity?
He CREATED me.
He FORMED me.
He commands me,
DO NOT HAVE FEAR, I HAVE SAVED YOU.
He FORMED me.
He commands me,
DO NOT HAVE FEAR, I HAVE SAVED YOU.
He has CALLED ME to Him, by MY name.
He DECLARES over me:
YOU.
ARE.
MINE.
YOU.
ARE.
MINE.
With zero hesitation, He speaks words that leave no room for the lies of fear:
When the waters rise, I WILL BE WITH YOU.
Even as they swell and crash, THEY WILL NOT TAKE YOU.
When the fire surrounds you,
YOU WILL NOT BE BURNED.
Refined, but NOT SET ABLAZE.
When the waters rise, I WILL BE WITH YOU.
Even as they swell and crash, THEY WILL NOT TAKE YOU.
When the fire surrounds you,
YOU WILL NOT BE BURNED.
Refined, but NOT SET ABLAZE.
So today, in the name of Jack, I am choosing to have no fear. I am sitting on my boat as waves try to overtake me, and clinging to the mast I know to be true: The Creator of all things is for me, therefore who can stand up against me? What lies can paralyze me and steal my joy?
I will look the storm directly in the face and declare with no waiver in my voice: He is with me. I will not be taken. I AM HIS.
