Do Not Be Afraid

Several years ago, I wrote a blog piece titled " Rabboni”.  It tells of the deep love of Mary Magdalene and Jesus, spoken at Christ’s empty tomb. 

The gentle, simple “Mary” that Jesus speaks with compassion and reassurance meets the fragility she undoubtedly was feeling. At the empty tomb, the resurrected Jesus simply breathes her name,

Mary!

The angels at the tomb also told her,

“Do not be afraid, for I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.

He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay."

My reflection on “Do not be afraid” sprang from the Triduum services of Holy Week—the experience of Jesus’ suffering, the betrayal, the physical anguish on the way to the mount, his final words, “It is finished,” the grief, confusion, and unfathomable disbelief of his followers, and the empty tomb.

The intensity arose from within the congregation gathered during Holy Week, “in his name —shared and lifted by the beauty of the choir, soulfully and forcefully.

Do not be afraid!

What is he asking me not to fear? 

Jesus speaks into our fear, “Do not be afraid.” At times, he shows a way of ‘being’ in which fear no longer governs  – as in the Garden of Gethsemane, when they came to arrest him, he simply says, “I am he.”

Throughout Scripture, we hear these words. At the Transfiguration, he meets with Moses and Elijah; his disciples fall in reverence and fear. Jesus says, “Rise, and do not be afraid!”

And in the storm, when Jesus comes to them walking on the water, the fear is immediate and real—wind, darkness, loss of control. Jesus tells them: “Take courage! It is I. Do not be afraid.” Not because the storm is over, but because “he is in it.”

He is in it!

“He is in it” is the invitation not to eliminate fear or be ruled by it, but to notice where fear shows up in us—how we hear it, and how we live it.

Fear of being alone. Fear of being hurt. Fear of not being enough. Fear of losing what I hold dear. Fear of what i cannot control.

What if these fears are not signs of distance from God, but the very places where he is meeting me?

What if I dare to see where I hold back, question my worth, and resist what is being asked of me—not elsewhere, waiting to be reached, but already here, in the depth of what I am living, quietly sustaining me and inviting my response ...

... Breathing my name.

Each day, a little, and then a little more, I am learning to trust that I have nothing to be afraid of.  I have learned to ask for what I need day by day, and that it will be given.

Trust.

I am learning, too, to notice where I am receiving God’s grace.   

A little each day.  I listen for it.

————————

_ Images by Rick Raymond