Here’s to the Fearless.
Finding courage in the courage of others.
This essay is based on a sermon series about the “Inside Out” and “Inside Out 2” emotions at St. John’s Presbyterian Church in San Francisco, CA.
I‘ve always liked to think of myself as pretty fearless. Most of the time, I can get myself hyped up, ready to throw caution to the wind and dive into anything.
Moved halfway across the country to a place I knew no one? Check.
Quit a job with no real backup plan? Yup.
Stood nose-to-nose with bosses to face some tough issues. Oh yeah.
Fearless? Maybe? Sometimes? Honestly, who am I kidding?
Truth is, I’ve been pretty terrified. Your run-of-the-mill scaredy cat. I may have had my fearless moments — sure — but I certainly haven’t always been that way.
Today, I’m a cyclist (when I can be). I’ll do 50–60 mile rides around the Bay, but when I was little, I was too scared to even ride a bike. When all the other kids in the neighborhood were on their official, big-kid two-wheelers, something in me just wouldn’t let me do it.
I also love to sing. I’ve been in all sorts of choirs. I’ve danced on stage. I’ve had big solos at Symphony Hall. But growing up, singing in front of people filled me with dread.
I used to be a theme park designer in my former life. In some ways, I made a career out of designing roller coasters. But I was terrified of them as a kid. You’d have to drag me kicking and screaming onto one of those things.
I was afraid of all of those things. I needed someone in my life to call out and say “Don’t be afraid.” Luckily, I had that fearless someone by my side: my little brother.
He rode his two-wheeler bike before me.
He sang in school musicals before me.
He braved roller coasters before me.
He and I shared a bedroom for years. Life was good. Then I got my own room for the first time all the way on the other side of the house, and I was so scared. Every night, I ran into my brother’s room, and my parents would find me there in the morning.
He was always willing to just go, get scraped up, fail, try, jump, and walk through the dark. His courage helped me know I could do much more than I ever thought I could.
Over and over again, he went before me, and I was the one that followed. He was the fearless person I needed to show me and tell me, “Do not be afraid!” Someone who’d been to the other side of my fear so I could know I wasn’t alone.
If the Bible were a song, the chorus would probably be: “Do not be afraid!” These are some of the most repeated words in scripture.
God says them.
Angels say them.
Poets, prophets, and peasants say them.
Jesus does, too.
In fact, these are the words Jesus speaks across the stormy sea during his miracle of walking on the water.
Jesus had gone off on his own to pray, after he sent the disciples out in a boat on their own. Night comes, and suddenly a storm hits. Wind and waves batter the boat. Land has vanished, and all that’s left are miles and miles of tumbling water.
In the midst of this chaos, the faint outline Jesus appears on the water. If a storm wasn’t scary enough, the disciples are terrified at what they think is a ghost moving towards them.
A storm.
A ghost.
A lot of uncertainty.
Fear.
And that ghost says, “Be encouraged! Don’t be afraid.”
Something stirs in Peter, one of the disciples. Even as he’s half-scared to death, he doesn’t run away and asks Jesus, “Call me out there. Out onto the water with you. I’m ready to follow.”
In the storm, Peter musters up the courage to lift his foot and step out of the boat and onto the water. But only after seeing and knowing that he’s following someone who has gone before him.
Fear is always a little lonely.
If you are barely balanced on your first bike, you have to decide to pedal.
If you are standing the spotlight, you have to sing.
If you are sitting in a roller coaster, you have to latch that safety bar.
Whatever fear you may face, you have to take that first step out of the boat.
And it can feel like you are the first and only person who has ever had to deal with the uncertainty before you. That’s why brave people who will take the first jump are so life-giving to all of us.
As we move this world forward — personally and collectively — towards goodness and justice, fear is part of the territory.
Here in San Francisco, I’m reminded of the brave beginnings of the LGBTQ Rights Movement and all of those who were on the front lines of the work. Fear was undeniably present. People fought for justice. People fought just to be seen. Afraid of what those in power might do. Afraid of what their own neighbors might do. And needing a place and people to help nourish them with courage.
In his most famous speech, Harvey Milk remembered, “I will never forget what it was like coming out and having nobody to look up toward. I remember the lack of hope. Without hope, not only gays, but the Blacks, the seniors, the handicapped, the us’es, the us’es will give up.”
More often than not, our courage and even our hope comes from seeing and following in the footsteps of those who have conquered or are conquering their fears. Without them, we are never as strong and often get stuck.
That’s one reason that community is so important. Communities are a melting pot of fears. Those deep-seated ones that will never go away. And the fleeting ones that arise in different seasons of life.
I’m scared of what high school is going to be like…
I just had a new baby and I have no idea what to do…
I packed up everything and moved to San Francisco. What now…
I’m getting sick and I don’t know what this road looks like…
My career is taking some sideways turns and I’m scared of what’s ahead…
But in community, we also get the antidote to fear: stories, wisdom, encouragement, and even a hug or two from people who have walked through those same fears and are on the other side. In community, we sit in the storms of life together with a heaping helping of bravery from people who remind us we’re never alone.
In one of my scariest moments, I was coming out to my family. While I had a lot of people in my life who had walked the water before me, I was still terrified. One particularly day, I stepped to the edge of that boat, I took a deep breath and I called my little brother back in Iowa on the phone.
He answered, and I said, “I have something to tell you. I’m going through a lot right now. I just broke up with someone, and I’m really torn up about it. They really broke my heart. Luckily, they moved away to Kansas City, so I don’t have to see them anymore. But it’s been really hard. Oh, and by the way, it was a guy.”
Without missing a beat, my brother said, “Well, Kansas City is like three hours away… I can totally show up at his house, and I’ll kick his ass.”
His fearlessness has always been a gift. (By the way, he didn’t do that.)
Take a moment and look through your life.
Take note of your brave people,
the fearless ones,
the ones you’ve followed when your path has gotten scary.
What would life be without them?
And in those moments when you may feel like you have no one to follow, those stormy times when you truly do have to step out of the boat on your own, I hope that you, like Peter, feel the Spirit calling out to you:
Do not be afraid.
Do not be afraid.
Do not be afraid.
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Find more words and creative worship from me at samlundquist.com
