So friends, I have to admit, I've been dealing with quite a bit of writers remorse, after initially posting the previous reflection, "Monday to Tuesday." It has been far more viewed than any other post I've written on this blog - shared numerous times, and read by people on four continents. And that feels hard to me - hard because it's my story, my reflections, not a summary of the experience for marathon volunteers. Hard because it was not complete, but very much in process. Hard because it doesn't paint me in a good light - nor does it accurately reflect all the good that was going on around me, because that wasn't the story I was telling. Hard because I felt exposed. Hard because I didn't like the story about myself; hard because I didn't respond in the way that I wanted to. Hard because so much of it is about fear.
To be clear, I am not ashamed of the fact that I love my family and wanted to be with them, needed them to know that I was okay. I feel no guilt in that, nor am I apologizing for a response that led me to run towards them. Love is strong and good. And even when love doesn't make your story "courageous" per se, there is no shame in love. But the fear part of my response - the fear part of my story - has felt hard. And admitting it has felt shameful.
Because isn't that how terrorism works? The use of fear, violence, intimidation, to achieve ones' own ends? Don't we, don't I, therefore, give victory to this cowardly attack, by acknowledging that I, that we, were in fact afraid? That fear was present?
But as I've thought about it more, I've realized, it was right and appropriate for me to share that story - to share the parts that feel shameful too - not because it reflects who I want to be, but because it is true. And in order to become the people that we want to be, we have to face who we are.
It does me, it does us, no good to tell stories spun in such a way that our inner desire becomes mysteriously transformed into our actual actions, regardless of the actual difference between the two. While they make us sound better - and may authentically reflect what we desire to be - it does us no good to deceive ourselves into believing that we were who we weren't. Because inevitably, when we lie about who we are, or were, we don't give ourselves the opportunity to grow, to change, to heal. And when faced with a similar situation, we will respond in exactly the same way. Fear hidden and denied, remains; it does not magically go away.
There are many people who are not afraid - for whom fear is not their primary reaction. I pray that for my son every night - that he won't seek out danger, but that he also will not be afraid in the ways that I have been and am. And I hope and pray that will be true for him. And there are many people who can master fear quickly, and press into it, rather than run away. But for the other 85% of the human population, who respond to danger with fear - to not acknowledge it, to pretend to be fearless, even when we were fearful, is a fearful response. And actually cripples our ability to ever be courageous or fearless. Fear that stays in the dark is like a rat in a dark room, walking in front of a spotlight. The shadow is huge, even though the rat itself is small. Fear that is hidden leads to true terror - even though it might not be externally evident until triggered. Only by turning on the lights, acknowledging it, seeing it, is it revealed as it truly is. Only by acknowledging ourselves, as we truly are, can we grow, heal, change.
That's different from a healthy "fake it til you make it." Healthy fake-it-til-you-make-it is Corrie Ten Boom not feeling forgiveness, but extending her hand of forgiveness anyhow. Struggling to love someone well, but still calling anyhow and saying "I love you." What do they say, whoever it was that actually said it? "Courage is not the absence of fear, but the mastery over it" or "the willingness to act in spite of fear."
It's also different from dwelling on fear, being paralyzed by fear, defining ourselves by our fears, or living in fear. If that is the case, then terrorists, and terror, do win. Eventually, we have to leave the fear behind - to choose hope, to live life, to choose love. We have to acknowledge also, that fear is not the end of the story. But I don't think we do that by denying the presence of fear, when it's actually there. To name it, to admit it, to bring it to light, is to begin the process of disarming it.
Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself" - a quote which is often used to call us into courage. I would add to that - in being afraid to admit that we are fearful at times, in hiding behind the masks of who we wish we were, we strength the grip of fear. Only by confronting, naming, and choosing to leave our fears behind - taking off the mask, turning on the lights, as it were not being afraid to admit that we were afraid - do we actually lay claim to FDRs fear-free "leadership of frankness and vigor... which is essential to victory."
How does that pertain to me? It starts by telling an honest story. By acknowledging fear. Yes, I was afraid. Yes, I responded in fear. No, that is not how I wish I had responded or desire to respond in the future. Lord have mercy. But also holding fast to the truth that fear is not the end of the story.
Yes, the fruit of terrorism is fear. And were to God that we were all fearless - that terrorism would be powerless against us, because it is powerless, where fear is absent. Yet, the reality is that many of us are afraid, or respond with fear. Yet, and that yet is important, in the courage to say, "I am afraid, but..." even if that "but" is just a repentance from our fearful actions, the roots of terror begins to be uprooted. Where fear stays in the dark, it grows, leads to hatred, racism, bitterness, and even greater fear. But in that "but"... courage grows. Because even the act of the "but" is the first step to "willingness to act in spite of fear."
That's where I am, friends. Telling my story. In truth. With hope. Acknowledging fear. Holding to hope in the "but..." That, I truly believe, is the beginning of what courage is.
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