Facing up to our fear

FEAR. God’s perfect love is supposed to cast it out – but it has a habit of gnawing at the gut, and obsessing the mind. There are many kinds of terror. The unseen attacker lurking in the undergrowth or alleyway, ready to pounce, is one scenario that probably plays in many an imagination. According to the Oxford Mail a higher proportion of people are afraid to go out in the evenings in Didcot than in any other town in south Oxfordshire. ‘In 33 years of seafaring….I did not encounter the marauding gangs of drunken vandalising youths as we now have in Didcot’. So said one retired merchant seaman when asked for his reaction to the survey that had revealed the frightening findings.

Then there’s unease prompted by those who live outside traditional rules and regulations. The Bucks Free Press reported in August that Landlords in High Wycombe lost thousands of pounds of trade as they closed their doors for three days, after fearing Irish Gypsies would cause trouble in their pubs. One of the pub’s owners was adamant that they ‘kick off and upset the locals’ but denied the gypsies’ accusations that he was racist; ‘I am not racist at all,’he responded.  A lot of my staff are Irish.’

Both examples express genuine concerns and understandable reservations and I would not wish to minimise either. However, I am always intrigued by my own fearful responses to people, places, or situations. I often wonder what it is in me that finds another individual or circumstance so unpalatable. I don’t want to condone anti-social behaviour but sometimes a terror of the ‘other’ or the unfamiliar takes on a life of its own, and wreaks havoc with my fantasy life. I become paralysed; scared of the adolescents who appear loud and proud on my street, because I am in my 40’s and they are unfathomable teenagers; in other words they remind me of my own mortality.  Or I feel myself irritated, by the beggar on the street asking for cash, which must, I rationalise, be for drugs. His presence reminds me of my own vulnerability and those hidden addictions I would rather not own up to;  and I hurry on without establishing eye contact.

Christ’s determination to love the ‘other’, meant he interfaced with so much unloveliness. He accepted the whore, the criminal and the leper because they were human, and therefore loved and made by the Father. He loved them out of their shame and despondency. I too, long to be ‘unshamed’; and as I continue to learn something of God’s regard for me, the dark secrets I hold lose some of  their power and I can begin to find relief. Isn’t that what so many of us desire?

Or do we all simply want to be blonde? The Evening Post revealed that 4 out of 10 women in the UK are fair haired; but the bottle’s the source rather than natural genetic selection. I am a highlight obsessive. I don’t want subtle I want obvious. I wish the Creator could revise the hair colour chart. I would have an urgent personal request. Please take out ‘mouse’ it’s not a good look.