Itsara

When I was a kid, I was terrified of roller-coasters - especially the ones that went upside-down. I think it wasn’t until sixth grade that my friends finally got me to go on one. We got in line for The Demon at Great America and were there for at least half an hour before we finally got on the ride. The entire time, my chest felt tight, my hands were sweating, and I was alternating between being abnormally quiet and talking animatedly about any subject other than roller-coasters.

Of course, when we finally got on the ride it was great! So much so that I have loved roller-coasters ever since and been on that specific one repeatedly. The ride itself was still terrifying (that’s the fun), but surprisingly less so than waiting in line for it. The fear of anticipation was far worse than the thing itself.

It’s one of those things that sounds obvious, but I forget about it all the time. If I could remember it then I wouldn’t let that fear control my actions as much as I do. As it is, I often avoid the fear of anticipation, and the only way to avoid the anticipation is to avoid the thing itself. There are still so many times when I choose not to do something because I’m afraid of what might happen.

This fear is paralyzing. If I always made decisions based on my fear, then everyday I would go to the same job, afterwards I’d come home and watch TV or play games all night, and on the weekends I’d go to church, watch movies or football, and go to sleep only to wake up again to the same job. This is my ideal life, but I’ve lived it before and it’s lazy, boring, and unfulfilling. I don’t like it, but so often I’m too afraid to change it.

In the movie Dodgeball, Peter LaFleur and his team of Average Joes make it to the dodgeball championship where they have to face their worst enemy. Their mentor is gone, and Peter doesn’t think he has what it takes to lead so he heads to the bar for a drink. There he meets Lance Armstrong:

Lance Armstrong: Hey, aren’t you Peter LaFleur?
Peter LaFleur: Lance Armstrong!
Lance Armstrong: Yeah, that’s me. But I’m a big fan of yours.
Peter LaFleur: Really?
Lance Armstrong: Yeah, I’ve been watching the dodgeball tournament on the Ocho. ESPN 8. I just can’t get enough of it. Good luck in the tournament. I’m really pulling for you against those jerks from Globo Gym. I think you better hurry up or you’re gonna be late.
Peter LaFleur: Uh, actually I decided to quit… Lance.
Lance Armstrong: Quit? You know, once I was thinking of quitting when I was diagnosed with brain, lung, and testicular cancer all at the same time. But with the love and support of my friends and family, I got back on the bike and won the Tour de France five times in a row. But I’m sure you have a good reason to quit. So what are you dying of that’s keeping you from the finals?
Peter LaFleur: Right now it feels a little bit like… shame.
Lance Armstrong: Well, I guess if a person never quit when the going got tough, they wouldn’t have anything to regret for the rest of their life. Well good luck to you, Peter. I’m sure this decision won’t haunt you forever.

There have been a few times when I’ve made decisions without taking my fear into account. Most recently, I cut my hours at my corporate job to make time for ministry, I gave away all my video games (I’ll tell you that story later), and (obviously) I decided to move to Thailand. I don’t regret any of these decisions, but the anticipation of actually doing some of these things is scary beyond all reason. These decisions, and a few others from the more distant past, have shaped my life in ways that I’m happy with and even proud of.

I wish I could remember this all the time. I’m just so good at rationalizing now that sometimes I can’t tell when my reasons for not doing something are real or simply based on fear. There are only two ways I can think of to figure this out. The first is to pray continually - Jesus is pretty good about telling me what’s really going on, when I stop to listen. The second is to face my fears, because remembering fears I’ve handled in the past is a strong indicator of what I can handle in the future.

In the Dune series of books by Frank Herbert, there is a group of people called the Bene Gesserit that have trained their minds and bodies to such a high level that other people consider them to have special powers. Among their traditions, they recite this Litany Against Fear to remind them of just what I have been talking about:

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

There is some great insight here. Fear kills us - not physically, but it paralyzes our minds such that we might as well be dead. Fear itself is only a “little death”, in that it is so small as to not be noticed, but the end result is total obliteration. Riptides and quicksand are only deadly because we panic. In battle, a fighter pilot that succumbs to even a moment of fearful hesitation won’t survive past that moment. Instead we must face the things we fear, and once we have faced them we will turn back and see that there was nothing to be afraid of at all. Fear is an illusion.

The trick will be remembering that the fear is not real before I have to face it.