Believing Out Loud: Trading Fear and Defeat for an Adventure with God

By Kimberly Wright

"Fear and low self-worth can prevent people from answering God's call on their lives. But courage and dignity are found at the cross. When people accept God's invitation for an adventure, they will have great stories to tell. And who doesn't love a great story?Many people believe fear is something with which they just have to live. However, God's Word contradicts that belief. 2 Timothy 1:7 tells us, ""For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline.""Our lack of self-worth will dictate what we do or do not do for God, as well as how we treat those around us. It will allow us to compromise our moral values to feel loved or accepted. You have value because God says you do—not because of what I or anyone else says. Learning to identify ourselves in Christ doesn't happen overnight—it is a journey of steps forward and sometimes backward.Obeying God's calling on our lives will lead us on a miraculous adventure. We will burst with stories to share with others. God wants to give you those kinds of stories. He wants to blow your mind and let you experience his miracles. You may feel like the most unlikely choice for God to use in a mighty way; but remember, we don't operate on feelings, we live by truth. Let God take you on an adventure and live a great story."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leafwood Publishers
• Release date: Aug 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9780891127123

Kimberly Wright

Kimberly Wright was named the Nevada Young Mother for 2009 and the National Young Mother of the Year by American Mothers, Inc. She earned a bachelor of arts in psychology from the University of Oklahoma and has published several articles in Christian publications. She and her husband, John, live with their four children in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Book preview

story?

CHAPTER ONE

The Battle

with Fear

Almost twenty years ago I attended my first writer’s conference. They told me, Write what you know. Back then, fear was the only thing I truly knew. Oh, I didn’t know how to get rid of it or effectively face it, I just knew fear. I knew what it felt like. I knew the effects it had on me mentally and physically. And I knew fairly well how to hide it. Fear wasn’t the word I used for it though—I preferred stressed or worried.

Glory to God, more than twenty years later I can write about more than fear. But fear is still something I battle. I still find myself feeling paralyzed by it on occasion. And I still like to dress it up by calling it other names, such as stressed or overwhelmed. I have dropped the word worried because it makes me feel weak and sinful. After all, Jesus specifically said, Do not worry (Matt. 6:34).

The thing about fear is just when you think you have conquered it, it rears its ugly head. I have learned that when I do not get enough rest, I struggle more with fear and anxiety attacks. Other times it can be triggered by something as curious as chocolate pie. Yes, chocolate pie has great significance for me.

When I was eleven years old, I lived with my grandparents. When my grandpa was not at work, my grandparents were always together. It did not matter the destination, they went side-by-side. On the evening of January 22, 1982, I played in a fifth grade basketball game. Grandpa took me to my game while Grandma decided to stay at home to make chocolate pies.

After the game, my grandpa went to the car to warm it while I changed out of my uniform. I went out to the car and crawled in the front seat beside my grandpa. His eyes were barely fluttering and I wasn’t sure if he was breathing. I tried to wake him by shaking his arm as I repeatedly said his name, Grandpa, Grandpa. With each unresponsive shake, my panic rose. I ran inside the gymnasium for help and soon he was surrounded by paramedics and doctors. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

In the early days, Grandma blamed herself for not going with him—it was the first time in decades he had gone somewhere without her. She felt, had she not stayed home to make us pies, he may have lived. Her belief created a fear, one I battle each time my husband or I break from a normal routine even today. If he gets hung up talking with someone he bumped into at the store or church and isn’t home within a few minutes of his expected time, I am in tears for fear something bad has happened to him.

In thirty-two years, I have not taken a bite of chocolate pie without thinking of that fateful night. That night birthed my panic attacks, and those attacks were fueled by another tragedy almost three years later to the day.

On January 28, 1985, my freshman year, I was changing for basketball practice when some of my friends came into the locker room talking about a man on a shooting rampage down the street. They said he had killed several women. The panic hit me immediately because I knew my mother was one of the women. I felt it.

As one of the senior players walked me upstairs to find the coach, we met him coming for me. I was right—my mother had been shot. She was the only one of four women still alive and was being medi-flighted to a hospital an hour away. A man had shot four women in the face and head before turning a gun on himself. My mother survived.

The day prior to the tragedy, my mother and I had spent all Sunday in her room reading books and hanging out. We had an enjoyable lazy day to which Mom had remarked that evening, Today was a good day. Like the chocolate pies, something good and otherwise insignificant had become associated with something bad. I now felt programmed to believe something tragic will always follow something good.

Fear can do terrible things to your health, even at a young age. My junior year in college, I was diagnosed with an ulcer and began taking prescription medication to treat it. Even at twenty-one years old, I realized this fear was taking a toll on my body and it had to be dealt with. I just didn’t know where to find answers; and frankly, I was too embarrassed to tell anyone I was so broken. I felt my only option was to accept my anxiety attacks and deal with them as they came.

Today, one of my favorite scriptures is 2 Timothy 1:7, which states, For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline. The word timidity in this scripture is from the Greek word deilia. It means fear and cowardice. Strong’s Complete Word Study Concordance says "deilia is always in a bad sense."

There is a healthy fear that can act as a gauge in keeping us safe. For example, the fear of a car accident can keep us from driving one hundred miles an hour down the highway. However, deilia is not a healthy fear. Paul, the author of the book of Timothy, tells us this bad fear does not come from our God, who gives us the spirit of power and love and self-discipline.

When a person battles fear, the last emotion that person feels is power. These two emotions cannot coexist. This is a significant truth we need to know and believe in order to effectively overcome our fears. These unhealthy fears, which can paralyze us physically and emotionally, are not from God. They are tools of the devil.

On the contrary, Paul wrote of the power we have as believers. Ephesians 1:18–20 says,

I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms.

In Judges 6, the author introduces us to a man named Gideon. At this time in history, the Israelites had turned their backs on God and were living a life of sexual immorality and worshipping false gods and idols. As a result of their rejection of God, for seven years God permitted the Midianites to invade and oppress Israel. They were forced to hide in caves and conceal their produce to