fear and hope

For the last two months almost I have been reading through Peter's first letter over and over again. Some days I read the entire letter, other days I read a few verses, and though I have enjoyed it and feasted on it all along, the Lord in recent weeks has been highlighting phrases that capture my thoughts and nestle into my soul.

At the end of Peter's address to wives he instructs them, "do not fear anything that is frightening." (3:6)

"Do not fear anything that is frightening."

So he is saying that there are things that are frightening. Rational, legitimate circumstances, individuals and powers that are rightly terrifying. It may seem redundant at first to tell someone not to be scared of things that are scary. Who would be afraid of something that is not? Right? But Peter is gentle enough to affirm that these women may have justifiable fears. It is one thing to say, "Do not fear because there is nothing to fear." Such a statement sounds demeaning, belittling. Almost as if to say, "You don't really get it; if you knew what I know you would understand that this is not really frightening."

Instead, he confirms the reality of dreadful things while requiring that they not be given power.

Dwelling on this phrase probed my heart for hidden fears. Some are big, some are small, and some are stupid, but here they are:

Fear of Stephen not coming home.
Fear of annoying or alienating him or others.
Fear of all our electronics breaking while he is gone.
Fear of being alone and unknown.
Fear of physical harm by random, evil men.

As I looked at my list the first time I realized how much I have given in to fear lately. The Lord graciously backed me up a few verses from the current instruction to not fear. What an overwhelming task to simply stopping being fearful of all these things I cannot control. But this command is at the end of a more saturated paragraph than just a suggestion to muster up unfearfulness.

In describing how Christian women are to befit themselves, Peter says, "let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening."

Now, there are so many little bits of this passage that I could pick apart and turn into a list of rules and regulations, but I am so deeply convicted by just one key phrase: "the holy women who hoped in God."

You see, in order to fear something, and I mean really fear it, I must value it at a premium, considering that its loss would fundamentally challenge or change who I am or my life's purpose and trajectory. Whatever I fear is a reflection of the desires of my heart and its true allegiance. Whatever I most fear losing is what I am hoping for above all else.

When I reexamine my list of fears, it is easy to see what my heart is hungering for most: Stephen, the approval of people, safety and ease.

Not to say these desires are all bad; they are not. But they are far too transient and uncontrollable to hope for. Would you not agree?

Which is why the descriptor hoped in God is so relevant, so poignant and so true. These women were not perfect by any measurement, but they were sold on the faithfulness and promise of their God, and the overflow of their hope in Him painted everything in their lives with glory. Peter touches on two other specific areas of life that are revolutionized by hope in Christ before he addresses fear.

He first points to the heart, the spirit within, the source from which all of life flows. Jen Smidt at The Resurgence expounded on "a gentle and quiet spirit" the other day. I found it both helpful and challenging:

Gentle does not mean mousy or weak. It does mean strength derived from and under the control of the Holy Spirit. The default response of our hearts is often harshness. It feels powerful and usually gets the job done. Children and husbands alike can be effectively and sinfully shut down by a harsh word or glance. A gentle woman will trust her Father’s provision, identify with the righteousness of Christ, and be filled with the Holy Spirit to such a degree that she will be known for her strength that shines brightly for God’s glory alone.

Quiet does not mean silent or without opinion. It does mean without noise. Quietness in our hearts is drowned out by the cacophony of voices of fear, worry, anger, and doubt. Difficult circumstances or trials turn up the volume and we succumb to the chaos. We lose the voice of Jesus in the midst of the cacophony. Peace prevails and rest ensues when we are quieted before our Savior and listen for his voice alone. Out of that quietness, the words of our mouths will be fitting, life-giving, and pleasing to God.

(Read the rest of her article here.)

The second arena is a woman's heart for her husband, an often debated stature for sure. Peter explains that the inner spirit of these God-hopeful women led them to submit to their husbands. Much could be said about how this directive is to be worked out in the practical aspects of marriage, but I believe that the woman whose hope is in God is willing and obedient in submitting to her husband because she trusts wholly in the provision of her heavenly Groom, Jesus. A heart of gratitude and submission to Christ reveals itself through humbly offering respect and deference to the other human heart it has been called to follow. This heart has relinquished the idols of control, always-being-right-ness and manipulation in exchange for the role of supporter, encourager and friend. I may not always be in the background and shadow of Stephen's public life, and I rarely feel that I am, but I pray I am always willing to be. I pray my heart toward him is soft and selfless in light of the Gospel.

Part of my submission to Stephen is this calling to the Army way of life. I have been called to be Stephen's wife, and as such I am also called to the military. If I am honest, I must admit I fight the calling regularly. Overall, I feel that I have settled with deployment, knowing that this is what God wants for us. But I want to nit-pick the inner workings of this organization and rehearse in my mind its inefficiencies far too often to honestly claim full submission. I pray I will relinquish my grip on the comfort and ease it disturbs so that my heart may engage in the greater mission of reaching this lost part of the world.

Having dealt already with fear, my attention is turned back to hope.

The Greek word used here is elpizō meaning "to wait for salvation with joy and full confidence."

I pray I will be a holy woman who "waits for salvation with joy and full confidence" in God alone, a daughter of Sarah. Sarah, who frequently doubted and "improved" upon God's plan, is remembered as a holy woman for her expectation that God would do what He said He would do.

My God has obtained, offered and promised the newness of all of life by the giving, slaying and rising of His Son. What more could be offered as the foundation for all of my hope? The answer is nothing, and I pray my heart always answers correctly.