Unafraid

I awoke this morning at 1:10. Our billion dollar dishwasher was beeping the change of a cycle. Why? I really wish I knew. The funny thing is the hype is all about how quiet it is, which it is when washing the #%^*&! dishes but when it is going into the dry cycle it starts a series of louds beeps, then when it is finished, same trio of noises. If you don’t turn it off it continues to beep a couple more times.

Does that make any sense? It’s like creeping into a sleeping baby’s room to retrieve something, only to start shouting in the doorway, “I did it! I got the stuff! I was soooo quiet! Yippee!” Stupid and annoying, especially at 1 in the morning. So I read, then wrote, then read some more, then finally fell back asleep after 5. Right around six, I sort of awoke again to wake Paul, I wasn’t exactly sure why. As he stumbled out of bed I heard knocking and realized that was what awoke me and thought it was C. Riley. Then it came again very loudly and I figured someone was at our door. I peeked through the window to see two men. One had a flashlight and was turning the doorknob.

“Who is it?” I asked quite calmly.

“It’s the sheriff.”

I stepped away from the door and called to Paul who was wandering around in the kitchen wearing only boxers. “It’s the sheriff.”

“Let me get dressed!”

“Planning on it.” He made for the bedroom to pull something on.

“I’m waiting for my husband,” I called to the men.

“That’s fine.”

“Is something wrong?”

“One of your garage doors is up and the light is blinking.”

“Oh.”

Paul came out, dressed now, and went to the back door which opens to the garage. They quickly discovered an icicle (Christopher!) had fallen in the path of the door. When Paul came home the night before the door must have hit the icicle which tripped the safety device and sent the door back up. It had been up with the light blinking all night. Someone driving by this morning had thought it strange and called 911. I stumbled back to bed while Paul, per the sheriff’s request, took a look around the garage to make sure everything was OK.

It was and he was soon snuggling in behind me. As I drifted back to sleep I thought about the series of events and noticed something: I had never been afraid.

Now some of you brave people in the audience are thinking, “What’s the big deal? Paul was there.” True, but up until a few months ago I lived in fear. Worry was my frame for life. Fear was my reflex. Anxiousness was the norm. The worst of it is that for the most part, I was unconscious of it. I knew I was a nervous nelly when I was alone at home, but I couldn’t see that being fearful was the way I responded to everything. I am grateful that God wasn’t satisfied with me accepting this instead of his perfect love and so He began to convict me. He gave me eyes to see and ears to hear.

As I began to recognize the fears that consumed me and repent choosing them instead of trusting Him, a longing welled up within me to be fearless.

These past months I have begun to experience a freedom and a peace that I have never known. My reflex slowed and then this morning I noticed with sleepy joy that it didn’t even respond when it was reasonable for it to do so.

Lying in bed this morning I realized that as I walked to answer the loud and intense knocking, what I felt was curiousity. I just wanted to know who was there.

The Bible says that “Jesus stands at the door and knocks.” This is a metaphor for our hearts, for our lives. He wants us to let him in, to make room for him. This year I have been shown time and time again the idols and wrong agreements, the covers under which to hide and the outright lies I have allowed to clutter up my heart. But these things don’t satisfy me anymore…they never did. And so I am sweeping my heart clean. I am “preparing Him room”. It is a good time. I am opening my arms wide to receive more of Him, to receive all of Him.

I want Him all.