During the past week, I spent vacation time in the Great Smokey Mountains near Gatlinburg, TN. Rafting down the river as it kept moving past the turns in its path and boulders in its way. Climbing up steep inclines to see mountain vistas that left me breathless. Walking along paths beneath a canopy of towering trees provided a different view of the wonder of God’s creation and creatures. And yet, the land bears scars of the trauma it has faced: the absence of the Cherokee people who were forced onto a “Trail of Tears” in the mid-1800s by the political powers of incoming settlers to the presence of land scarred by the 2016 wildfire that devastated over 10,000 acres. The land tells the story of beauty from ashes, stability in trauma, presence in and out of seasons of change.

The phrase that came to mind was the phrase penned by French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr in 1849, who wrote “plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose “– the more things change, the more they stay the same. While this idiom is often said when one is frustrated or cynical about the current situation, it can also remind us why we have hope in our all-knowing, omnipotent Lord in all seasons. When change is present, usually its cousin – fear – is also present. And that is a good thing.

During the trip, I witnessed two moments of fear. First, my 9-year-old grandson, who can climb trees and jump off the second bunk, is afraid of water. While on our rafting trip which he wanted to go on, he became filled with dread at the appearance of rougher water; even when his father took him off the boat – with a life preserver on, standing in three feet of water and held by his father, he broke into a panicked crying spell. Once back on the boat, he completed the trip and, at the end of the two-hour trip, said he enjoyed the experience. 

The second moment of fear was when climbing back down from the 6,644 Ft. peak at Clingman’s Dome, and we encountered a couple who stopped for a rest on the steep hike. When asked what they thought of the view, they said, “We didn’t make it to the top. We almost did; we were within view. But our fear of heights overtook us, and we had to turn and head back before we really got to see the view.”

Both situations were related to change in experience and location that initiated a negative “spirit of fear” (ref. 2 Timothy 3:17) that hinders our activity in life and can hinder our understanding of God. Yet, there is another scriptural meaning for fear – a reverence and awe for all that God is and does, for this kind of fear can lead to blessings, wisdom, and understanding. 

The grandeur, strength, and peace of the mountains – even with the seen and unseen scars in the land – remind me of the scripture from Isaiah:

For the mountains may move and the hills disappear, but even then, my faithful love for you will remain. My covenant of blessing will never be broken,” says the Lord, who has mercy on you. Isiah 54:10 NLT

With the easing of pandemic restrictions, we are a people opening to a new chapter in our lives. As people of faith in this season of cultural, political, and denominational uncertainty, we can easily fall into fear of what is coming down the road.  Even as I prepare to go into my next pastoral appointment in less than two weeks, I am fully aware that the church and I will be facing uncharted seas and mighty mountains to traverse. Change will be experienced as we enter into a new journey in a new time for a new expression of what it is to be people of our living Lord and Savior right here and now. And fear will rise up as well. Yes, fear of things not staying the same, but also a fresh fear and awe in how our Lord works in and through us by His Spirit challenging us, moving us, changing us. 

Scars of land devastated by fire can diminish the life-hindering ground clutter, and open the land up to new growth that is stronger and healthier. Scars of a people once devasted by hate and prejudice fueled by fear can become a place of healing and transformation by the Spirit of Life who forms and reforms the mountains.

The truth is we will face fear in the days ahead, no matter what our current situation; it is up to us whether those changes will become stepping stones of strength and growth in our Christian walk or boulder-sized distractions and barriers. Like my grandson, we can navigate the strong currents of our uncertain times that will toss us about as long as we remember; the life preserver of hope has us, and our father’s secure embrace doesn’t let us go. For fear is an acknowledgment that we are not as in control as we think we are. And that is ok because Jesus overcame the world, so we didn’t have to.

Fear tells the lies that lead our minds into unhealthy places. Unhealthy emotional and spiritual mind creates scars that hurt others and separate us from the love, grace, and peace God wants to pour into our lives. Still, the Spirit’s transformation of our fears fuels our faith when we use the unknown and unpredictable as the opportunity to fully rely upon the Lord of earth and sky and sea.

Fear is the foothold for faith that moves mountains.

But only if we are willing to keep going on our journey of sanctifying grace. Even when our muscles ache. Even when our breath is labored. Or even because we are afraid of what might be or the what-ifs in life. 

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity or cowardice or fear, but He has given us a spirit of power and of love and of sound judgment and personal discipline [abilities that result in a calm, well-balanced mind and self-control. 2 Timothy 1:7 AMP

Whether on vacation or at home, I am learning to embrace my fears by consistently returning to Christ, my homeland where I am grounded and find life. The days and scenery ahead are going to offer a spectacular view of my awe-inspiring and amazing God by whom I am” wonderfully and fearfully made”- and I don’t want to miss it.