Lost in Faith

God Used Fear, Part 1

After I watch a movie, it takes me at least half an hour to rejoin reality. Those four days in Bhukwini were one intense movie. So I am stepping back into my life slowly. Usually, I have a ravenous appetite. Since our plane landed at MCI, I have just eaten what’s necessary. I guess a smaller appetite could be attributed to our mission team’s massive consumption of ritualistic morning eggs and evening meat, but I just don’t feel normal.

For most of this week, nothing has moved me. Not even the great New Community service on Wed. But Friday afternoon, while trying to memorize a lengthy monologue for this Sunday’s service, a wave hit me. I sat on my bed for almost two hours, unable to memorize even the first few lines on the page. I ranted and raved at myself for failing at this usual simple task of memorizing. Then I curled up in a ball and just cried.

I was small, unfocused, and completely a mess.

A cycle began raging in my gut: fear of disappointing everyone and myself with my upcoming imperfect dramatic performance, disgust with my lethargy and apathy to not learn it earlier, fear of not living up to God’s calling on my life, etc. I’m sure there’s a lot more, but I lost track just now in trying to recount all the fears and dread that overcame me at that moment.

You can probably see it. I see it every day. But I try to ignore it. Going on this trip to South Africa, I thought I had left it behind for 2 weeks. I thought wrong.

My problem is fear. That’s it. I am afraid.

Afraid of so many things: small things, big things, real things, imagined things, any-things. Give me a person, place, or thing. I’ll give you a fear of mine to go with it. Lately, I’ve called myself a fearful writer. Because frankly, I’m afraid to write. Afraid of what God will do or could do, or worse, can’t do with me. Ironic, of course, because in order to be a writer, you have to write. My husband reminds me of this frequently. So, even in writing this, I’m guess I’m making a feeble attempt to step out of fear.

The trip itself did not frighten me. I was gung-ho to experience the big adventure of an international mission trip and the beautiful country of South Africa. Bring it on. But I was afraid of how I would be accepted and thought of by my 28+ new teammates, all from area KC churches. We had met before at 3 trip prep meetings, and I they were all very nice, not scary at all. But I was still terrified.

I have a problem with putting on the good face to impress. It’s very easy for me to react to someone’s personality almost identically, so I keep them at ease and I blend in perfectly. I want to meet people’s expectations so well, that they don’t even realize I am doing it. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. And people think they know the real me who seems very much like them. I know that I would have fared well in the field of professional espionage for this very reason.

Of course, God knew all this and He had a great way of thwarting my metamorphotic tendencies. When we arrived in Johannesburg on Oct. 25, we were all very tired, but very excited, and somehow, weirdly enough, very much ourselves. And the Amazing Race of now 34 people and too much luggage set out across the sprawling landscape in 6 bulging vehicles, which will never ever recover from the strain we put them under.

There was no time to blend in. I was thrown in the midst of a crazy group of people: all of us bringing our reasons and visions for these 10 short days on the ground.

On day 2, I sat next to a guy named Joel for our plane ride from Johannesburg to Port Elizabeth. For a brief second, fear gripped me: “Oh, gosh, what do I say to this complete stranger?” Before I knew it though, I wasn’t sitting next to a complete stranger. I was sitting next to a young dad, husband, and financial business owner who was on his 5th trip to S. Africa within a span of 15 months. He keeps coming back because of the people. I was completely intrigued. And when we got off the plane in Port Elizabeth, I met the beautiful dark faces of the people that propelled Joel to return: Mama Gladys, Kalelua, Publani, Senu, and Atho.

As I stood by myself with my cart of luggage in the rental car pickup area, a girl as tall as me at 5’10” came running over. She gave me an enormous hug that wrapped me up from the inside, and her lavish white smile almost made me gasp with the breathtaking contrast to her dark, long braids. “Hello, I am Atho.” And suddenly, even through exhaustion and fear, I felt loved.

Back to messy me on my bed crying Friday night. I discovered that post-trip funk does not mix well with the pressure of learning a drama at the last minute. I felt alone. Completely alone. I couldn’t ask for help because I was sitting in a pile of self-pity and pride. I refused to look like a failure to everyone, and, most of all, myself. But in a desperate moment, I called Di, my drama director. As she and Scott, another director, consecutively listened on the phone with open hearts to my messed up internal dialogue, I, again, felt loved. And somehow, that was enough to propel me through 3 hours of practicing and pacing and improvising Saturday morning. And I know it propelled me on stage today.

Because when you are loved—feel loved and know that it is real, fear suffocates. It has no place to rage, to hide, or to even breathe. Love takes over the insecurities, those messed-up perceptions.

On the trip, I really thought that two people would have some serious conflicts: Jim and Holly. I guess at first, I saw Jim as pretty conservative and Holly as anything but. Jim seemed very skilled at saying the right thing, and I knew Holly revelled in saying what you shouldn’t. But there was a force behind both of them. And strong, forceful personalities—you guessed it—scare me. Even with my initial ill-informed notions aside, I sensed something could and just might explode with these two strong forces. And I didn’t want to be in the middle if it did!

Ironically, I found myself next to them on the plane trip home. Sitting side by side, Jim and Holly exchanged life stories, gory details and all: shared completely with sensitivity and the utmost respect and care for one another. Not to miss a priceless moment, I told them about my pre-conceived fear of their personalities clashing on the trip. They were puzzled for a second and then burst out laughing, asking, why would I think a thing like that? I tried to explain my reasoning, but it just sounded dumb after what I had just witnessed. Great friends they were. And there I was, just amazed at God’s love and humor.

Fear’s a funny thing. It takes shape in ways we don’t expect, aimed to strike us at the core. Friday I did not expect to be totally incapacitated with fear. I guess I am learning to expect it at the moment I least expect it.

But being loved in the midst of uncertainty is marvelous, completely marvelous. Feeling it and knowing it for that moment—there’s nothing like it.

Staying in that realization is where I long to be.

–
Christina Hubbard