fear

God will never let us down but other people will

God likes to remind me when I am putting my faith in something or someone other than him. As I’ve heard Father Mike Schmitz say, “We are wired for idolatry,” and it often seems as though every time I’m making steady progress in my relationship with God, I find a new false idol to give my attention to. This inevitably leads to unhappiness and disappointment, and I turn back to God for help. 

I don’t know how many times I need it to be proven to me that God is God and everything and everyone else is not, but it seems as though I never fully learn this lesson. There’s always one more distraction and one more hope, followed by one more messy let down. 

And I know it’s no one else’s fault. I can’t blame them. They are not asking to be God. I put them in that position. I set them up to fail me by having expectations that only God can meet and then I’m somehow surprised when humans prove to be human. 

There’s a reason Jesus’s said the first and greatest commandment is to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37-38, NIV). Even though he then tells us to “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Matt 22:39), this commandment comes second for a reason. God will never let us down, but other people will. 

When I make for myself false idols, God allows it. He doesn’t like it and he warns against it, but he allows it because, even though he wants us to choose him, he never stops us from using our free will. If we want to choose to worship something or someone other than God, God won’t stop us. He will remove his grace and protection from us when we turn away from him, however. 

Even though I know God never stops loving me, I have experienced times when I could feel his absence in my life. It usually happens when I turn my back on him or put something else before him. The funny thing is that God never went anywhere. It was I who cut myself off from his presence. 

All he asks is that I repent. That is, that I turn back to him with a contrite heart. When I do, having been let down by the world once again, he is always there to welcome me home. I don’t do this to test him. It’s more like I have a short memory. I forget what it’s like to be alone in the wilderness, outside of his protection. So I test it out again and am reminded of the pain and misery that led me to him in the first place. 

If only I never turned away, but the serpent of temptation comes in many forms. The devil has many faces and many voices, and he is a persistent trickster. He makes great promises that appeal to my pride, vanity, and fear, and he convinces me that I don’t need God this time, again, and it’s a lie. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

The cave the fear and the treasure

The thing about fear is that no one can walk through it for us. In fact, they can’t even really walk through it with us, at least not our truest, deepest fears, the fears that define us and hold us back from becoming who we are destined to be. We must take the walk alone. 

Well, we aren’t really alone. God is always with us. But we often cannot feel his presence as we do the work of faith. We have to trust that he is there while we make the walk into darkness. 

Joseph Campbell said, “The cave [we] fear to enter holds the treasure [we] seek.” The challenge is that, not only is the fear ours, but the cave is ours also, and so is the treasure. It all exists inside of us. All anyone else can do is to point the way. 

And God knows all of this. He can see our hearts and he knows our needs. He is calling us into our cave of fear, promising that he will will not abandon us, telling us it will be okay. The challenge is that we have no way of knowing without doing the work, without facing our fears and taking the walk. 

God’s love and faithfulness is proven to us as we step out on the other side of the darkness. He is there to greet us and to assure us that we need only to trust him, that the treasure always belonged to us. It was and is ours to take any time we want. 

And yet, even as we know this, even as God proves his loyalty to us time and time again, we forget or we don’t believe it. Every new fear and every new trial feels like we are experiencing it for the first time, like this will be the time God forgets us and abandons us. 

The Lord is always faithful, though. It is we who are fickle and unreliable. We attribute to God our worst characteristics, forgetting that our brokenness is not God’s doing, nor is it a reflection of his nature. God gave us Eden and a life without fear or shame. 

It was our lack of faith, our inability to trust his word, that separated us from him and expelled us from the garden. He is constantly trying to draw us back there with him though. We need only believe we are worthy of the divine treasure that awaits us. It is not far off. In fact, the cave, the fear, and the treasure are actually one in the same. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

I’m afraid of losing her

Ever since my daughter was born, I would check on her multiple times each night to make sure she was still breathing. Nearly ten years later and I still do this. If she goes to sleep before me, when I go upstairs, I check on her before I go to bed. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I go in her room to check on her before going back to sleep. If I wake up before her in the morning, I check on her before I go downstairs. 

I’ve often thought about why this I do this. I’m sure it’s partly out of habit. I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s just something I do. But there’s more to it than that. 

Of course, I check on her because I love her. She’s my only child and we are extremely close. She means the world to me and I adore her. But if I’m being honest with myself, that’s only part of why I check on her so often. 

Having reflected on this behavior quite a bit over the years, the thing I keep coming back to is fear. I’m afraid of losing her, of something happening to her in her sleep, and of her dying suddenly with no warning or explanation. I’m afraid of this because, deep down, I still feel like I don’t deserve her. 

My daughter is such an amazing soul. She is thoughtful, compassionate, kind, creative, hardworking, and extremely smart. I’m in awe of her and I have more love for her than I ever thought I was capable of having for another human being. The thought of losing her terrifies me. 

I have done a lot wrong in my life. At times, I have been selfish, careless, and unkind. Especially in my youth, I have done many things that I regret. And while I know that my shortcomings and mistakes do not define who I am, I also know that I have a life better than I deserve, especially when it comes to her. In the back of my mind, and sometimes in the forefront, I am haunted by the thought of losing her as some kind of divine punishment for my pride, anger, and other wrongdoings. 

Sometimes, this fear drives me to be a better father. It motivates me to spend as much time with her as possible, to be as present for her as I am capable of being, to guide her as best I can, and to let her know that I love her often. Other times, it’s just fear. It results in worry, anxiety, and restless nights. 

The thing is that I know that God loves me and forgives me for my past mistakes. I have confessed them to him and another person, and I have tried to right my wrongs to the best of my ability. I also know, however, that what’s done is done and I cannot change the past. I have to live with my mistakes. 

I’m not sure why I’m writing all of this other than that I needed to get it out. I needed to acknowledge it and put it “on paper” so to speak. Perhaps I wonder if other fathers have the same feelings toward their children, a feeling of absolute unworthiness for the unfathomable miracle that they are. Maybe this is my way of reaching out for connection with those who feel the same way that I do, or maybe someone else needs to know that they are not alone. 

What I am sure of, however, is that God is loving and merciful, so loving in fact that he sacrificed his own son to pay for my sins. For me to continue to wallow in grief and remorse is almost ungrateful, almost a denial of that gift, and it certainly does not make me more useful to God or the people around me. My fear is a subtle way of rejecting God’s grace. 

Perhaps that’s what this is all about. Maybe, through the deep and unexplainable feelings I have for my daughter, God is showing me how much he loves me. I might be making too much out of nothing, but it doesn’t feel like nothing to me. It feels like everything and, as I check on her this evening and kiss her goodnight, I will do so as a form of prayer. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Praying for courage

I’ve been a public speaker on and off in various venues for the past twenty seven or so years. Most of my talks have revolved around recovery from drug and alcohol addiction, and the relationship with God that made my recovery possible. It’s a subject with which I have intimate knowledge and about which I am extremely passionate. And yet, I still get nervous before I speak.

I have spoken at countless venues in front of a variety of audiences, and it has always worked out. With the exception of one or two talks many years ago when my anxiety got the best of me, things have always gone well. Even in those rare one or two rare cases, I was able to pivot and pull it off.

Time and time again, my experience has proven that I have nothing to fear, I’m not an imposter, and things are going to be fine. Most importantly, however, my experience has proven that God will not abandon me, that he loves me, provides for me, and protects me. He has never let me down. And yet, I still get nervous before I speak.

I often wonder what it would be like to have perfect faith. That is, what would it be like to trust God implicitly, always, to fear nothing, and to never worry? While I do believe that this state of perfect faith is possible, if only because I believe that, for God all things are possible, I have a long way to go before I achieve it.

I have had brief moments of perfect faith. But like most people, I’m flawed and broken, impatient and untrusting, and I try to control things that are either out of my control or that would be better left to God. Precisely because of this brokenness, when I get nervous before I speak, and even when I don’t, I find a quiet space to pray. My fear is my own, but my courage comes from God.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Parallel parking and the Wai Kru Ram Muay

Through an unexpected turn of events, my daughter and I ended up at a Muay Thai Wai Kru seminar today. Muay Thai is a form of pugilistic fighting originating in Thailand wherein participants use punches, kicks, knees, elbows, and trips from the clinch position to defeat one another. Wai Kru, more officially Wai Kru Ram Muay or ‘war dance saluting the teacher,’ is a ritual performed by Muay Thai fighters before a fight. This ritual is a way for the fighter to pay respect to the art, their teacher, and their opponent, and is intended to prepare the fighter for the fight. 

My day started with me attending a jiu-jitsu class with my daughter who played with her cousins while I trained. After my class was over, we were supposed to go somewhere, but before we left, I found out that plans had changed and our presence was no longer required. My wife was sightseeing in Washington DC with her family who is visiting from Washington state, so my daughter and my schedule suddenly opened up. 

As we were leaving the academy, some Muay Thai folks came in and I remembered that there was a seminar today intended to raise money for the girl who was teaching it to fight overseas. My daughter’s cousins were all attending the seminar since they all do Muay Thai and my brother was hosting the event, so I asked my daugher if she wanted to participate also and she said yes. 

The seminar went well and the kids all learned how to do the Wai Kru. At the end, they asked for volunteers to demonstrate what they had all learned, which was a complex series of movements that takes several minutes to perform. My daughter immediately raised her hand. 

A space was made in the middle of the room and my daughter was called out. With a little bit of help, she demonstrated the Wai Kru as everyone watched. They gave her a round of applause and then every kid, one by one, demonstrated to the group what they had learned. After the seminar ended, everyone sparred for a while and then went to get ice cream. 

When we got home, my wife was excited to tell me how proud of herself she was for successfully parallel parking in DC and making it all the way to Eden Center, a giant Vietnamese shopping center in Northern Virginia, and back without getting lost. When my wife finished telling me about her day, my daughter said, “Mommy, I did something brave today too. When the coaches asked for volunteers to demonstrate the Wai Kru in front of the class, even though I was nervous, I raised my hand and I went first. When I was done, my cousin told me that I inspired her and that’s why she went second.” 

I simply smiled. It was a good day and a good reminder that courage manifests in many different forms. For one person, courage is parallel parking in the city or driving to a new place. For another person, courage is raising their hand and stepping up in front of a crowd. We are all scared of something. It is our ability to take action in spite of that fear that makes us brave. Also, bravery is contagious. 

I am terrified of my creative voice

I am terrified of my creative voice. It frightens me because it sounds a lot like my pain. 

I am hesitant to enter that place inside of me because I am afraid of what I will find, I am afraid of what will come out, and I am afraid that I will not be able to leave once I enter. 

I dance around this fear and I do good work, but it isn’t my work, not in the truest sense because it is impersonal. What is personal is the pain, the grief, the anger, and the shame, but I am afraid to go there. 

I want my art to be uplifting, I want to make a positive impact, and I want to make people happy, but I also need to dig deeper. I need to dive into the pain. I need to unearth the lessons it wants to give me. I need to not be afraid of what I will find because all I will find is the truth. 

I am still searching for my creative voice because it exists on the other side of fear and I have not yet gone there. I have not yet become truly vulnerable, and there is no art without vulnerability. 

Even this is merely writing around the truth, not diving into it headfirst without hesitation. Even this is a form of hiding. This is me avoiding the real work. 

This is not my creative voice. This is something else. 

Finding creative freedom

As creatives, we don’t get to decide what of our work will resonate with others and what will fall flat. There is no way of knowing which pieces will find an audience and which will die a quiet, lonely death. Create anyway. Share your work anyway. Create some more.

As people who are called to creative work, our joy and satisfaction must come from the creative process itself or we will find ourselves disappointed and frustrated when our work doesn’t get the response we desire. We have no control over the response to our work. All we can do is create and share. The rest is out of our hands.

The audience gets to determine whether or not they find value in our work, but their response can’t be our focus or we will create fearfully. When we create in anticipation of a response, it changes the way we create. It holds us back and stifles our true voice.

The only way to do work that matters is to create it without the audience in mind. What they do with our work is none of our business. Focus only on listening to your inner voice. Create that which your inner voice begs you to get out.

Listen for where the fear and discomfort is, and lean into that space. The work you are most afraid to do, that part of you that you are most afraid to share, that is where your best work will be found because that is the work that only you can do.

Create from where you are most vulnerable and tender. Share that part of yourself that you fear most being rejected for. This is you. This is your work.

As you create and share, your work will evolve and change, and you will evolve and change through the process. You may never become fearless, but through the process of creating and sharing bravely, you will begin to fear less. You will find a new kind of freedom.