My first ever mission trip was to the Bahamas. I know what many of you are thinking right now; “Mission trip to the Bahamas, huh? Really suffered for the cause, there, didn’t you?!” It wasn’t what you would be led to assume, though, for several reasons. First of all, we didn’t go to the standard islands and areas most people frequent when they head to the Bahamas. We didn’t see Grand Bahama or Nassau. Most of our time was spent on Andros Island, which is basically a massive swamp from which the other islands get most of their fresh water. Second, our mode of transportation and housing was unorthodox… or, perhaps it was extra orthodox. For the entirety of our trip we lived and traveled on a “working” sailboat. Contrary to what the name may seem to indicate at first glance, “working” does not mean that the boat was functional and well-staffed. Rather, it would only function provided that we staffed it. All twenty of us had come down from West Virginia. Most of us had little to no experience operating a pontoon on a lake, let alone a 60-foot, wind-propelled, floating RV!
The first night on the boat was an absolute nightmare! Everything started out great. We spent the morning and afternoon in a harbor in Miami, right across the dock from a large mall and not too far away from the home stadium for the Miami Heat. The captain and his first-mate gave us the rundown on the boat and provided us with preschool level instruction on how to operate it. This would be vital information as we would be the ones sailing the ship through the night. Of course, we all thought that was the coolest thing ever. WE WERE WRONG!
When it came time to head out to sea, the captain asked if any of us had experience driving a boat. My wife, Robyn, grew up on a lake and had been driving boats from the time she was able to see over the bow of the boat, so she was volun-told to take the wheel. She was a natural; the captain said as much. She made it look so easy. As we got further away from land and subsequent crew members took the wheel, all illusions of smooth sailing vanished. The waves kept getting bigger and bigger. At times they would hit the boat so hard that supplies would fly off of shelves, hatches would snap open, and it would feel as if the boat were falling apart. To make matters worse, seasickness began to set in for many of us, myself included. I found myself lying on the deck with my head over the side of the boat, holding onto a post for dear life as I hurled the contents of my stomach into the sea. I was absolutely terrified. I was in an unknown and uncontrollable environment, and there was a very real element of danger in that moment.
None of us have experienced a worldwide pandemic or a societal shutdown of this magnitude. These are uncharted waters for all of us.
This is where most of us find ourselves today. We are in the midst of an unknown and uncontrollable reality. None of us have experienced a worldwide pandemic or a societal shutdown of this magnitude. These are uncharted waters for all of us. We are often led to believe that fear is a bad thing, or even a sin, to put it in Christian terms. I would argue, though, that fear is part of our God-given common sense. I would argue that there are many cases when some level of trepidation or fear is not only natural, but actually wise. Proverbs 9:10 tells us, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Fear, then isn’t necessarily the absence of faith, nor is it an irrational emotional response. Rather, fear can be a rational response in light of the power and greatness of a person, place, or situation.
It was right for me to have a healthy sense of fear on the sailboat. Had I fallen off in those high seas in the middle of the night while puking my guts out, it would have been a life-threatening situation. My fear on the boat led me to be aware of the waves that were coming my way. It led me to position myself behind the post as I clung to it. It made me aware of the location of other passengers who were in a similar position to make sure they were safe as well. It wasn’t that I didn’t have faith in the captain. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in the integrity of our vessel. I simply needed to learn how to appropriately and productively function in my new reality.
Fear doesn’t always equal the absence of faith.
Fear doesn’t always equal the absence of faith. In the midst of this pandemic, it is appropriate to have some degree of concern about the impact this sickness will have on our world. The key, however, is that we don’t allow the fear to control our actions, causing us to contribute to the chaos. Instead, we should allow our fear to inform our understanding of the situation, leading us to make wise choices for ourselves and others. We should listen to the advice of government officials and medical experts. We should limit our in-person interactions with others outside of our households. We should be aware of the needs and concerns of our friends, family, and neighbors and seek to help in safe and appropriate ways. And, at the same time, we should have faith that God is working in and through this situation, both for our good and for His glory.
A passage that has been used quite frequently lately is II Timothy 1:7. It reads, “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline (NIV).” I like this rendering better than fear. It seems to fit the context better. It moves beyond the emotions to actions. It speaks to what drives our actions. The truth is we have to keep living through whatever circumstances come our way. Our actions in the midst of uncertain and uncontrollable times, frightening as they may be, must be informed by a spirit of love for God and others, executed with a semblance of self-control, with faith that God will bring us through. It’s OK to be afraid. It is wise to have a certain amount of respect for the severity of our current reality. Our fear should inform our actions, not control them.
