"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten in God’s sight. But even the hairs of your head are all counted. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows." - Luke 12:6-7
Fear is an emotion that bubbles just under the surface of my consciousness most of time. It churns in my mind like a riptide, threatening to pull me out into the depths of horror if I'm not careful. Fear is the growing darkness of the winter months in which I stumble along praying for even the faintest of lights to illuminate my path. I know this fear's source, for the most part. Most of my fear is rooted deep in my own past experiences with trauma and loss. This makes its way to the forefront of my consciousness most when I'm trying to build relationships with others.
In my case, fear in relationships is a tight and fast spiral from insecurity to terror. I start with recognizing some "unknown" factor in a relationship and end up catastrophizing what will happen. And I always reach the same conclusion. There's a voice in my mind that tells me that I will end up alone... I will be abandoned. I worry about this because it has happened before. I've collected "data" to backup the"hypothesis" that I will be left. And if it has happened before, what's to stop it from happening again?
At its core, this is a fear that comes from my sense of self-worth. I so often don't truly believe that I am worth sticking around for, so why wouldn't people leave me? The fear comes in, causing me to worry that this notion of worthlessness is "fact" and that any abandonment and "failure" in relationship will only confirm it.
These thoughts form a well-worn pathway in my brain. This dark pathway is before me daily, and I face the resulting fear moment by moment. Ever so slowly, however, I'm learning how to walk this pathway even in the darkness that is present. I'm learning how to move and navigate despite the deep fear. I am in process of identifying and rescripting this internal dialogue. Some days it is the best I can do to simply name the fear. I call the dark night for what it is. But other days, when I'm a little stronger and a little more secure, I start the work of telling myself new truths. That's when I'm learning to dance even in darkness.
This is where the verses above from Luke come in. I think of them often and quote them to myself regularly. Even when I don't really believe them - don't really believe I'm worth more than many sparrows - I still cling to the promise found in those words. These words of Jesus help me to dance in the dark. They help me to reach out and grasp hold of a Truth that transcends my fear.
I do want to make one thing very clear though... I'm still afraid. I don't want you to think that my learning to dance means that the fear has gone away. It doesn't mean that I no longer experience the reality of emotion. This is important, because I will not allow myself to compound my suffering by telling myself I shouldn't feel fear. I don't believe Jesus' words above to "not be afraid" mean "don't have emotion." I believe that it is about trusting despite the fear. I believe it is learning to take those still-scared steps in the dance though it be night.
What paralyzes you with fear? What would it look like to start shuffling your feet in the first, tentative steps of a dance? What sweet music could fill the night if you allowed yourself to cling to the truth that you are worth more than many sparrows? Because you are, you know? You are worth so much.
So don't let the fear stop you from dancing in the dark. Dance despite the weight of fear. Dance despite the voices that tell you to stop, even when those voices come from within your own mind. There will always be voices that tell you to stop and to lean into fear. But I encourage you to cling to Jesus' words instead. Words about your worth. Words that fill the heart with assurance. Words to which you can dance.
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