Fear Accumulated

I entered into my work with houseless folks fearless.  I suppose not completely, but I was ready to face threats, beatings, hatreds and even death.  I had considered all the circumstances and so I was ready to face them.  This was in line with Jesus' preparations for his followers about persecution.  "They will hate you," he intoned, so readying us for all kinds of hatred.  Hatred from those in authority over us.  Hatred from our fellow religionists.  Hatred from those whom we serve.   So I rehearsed all of these possibilities in my head, so when they came I would be ready.

And I was ready. When someone called me Satan for my firm pacifism, I laughed and shared with others.  When someone threatened to punch me in the middle of a sermon, I talked him down from it.  When someone punched me in my house, I was shaken, but thoughtful.  When a neighbor threatened to kill me and my fellow pastor, I was careful, but shrugged it off.  When local police told the neighbors I was high on meth and selling it to my people, I thought it was hilarious.  When someone snapped and threw a TV at me because I was trying to help them, I shrugged it off.  When another person lurched at me and threatened to kill me, right then, right there, I was concerned for the others watching more than I.  And when someone struck me at the church because I had to escort them off the property, I barely flinched and said, "Are you done?  Let's go."  When I was arrested in city hall, I had a wonderful time.

I knew my principles and I was ready to stand and take whatever for them.  It looked like I was fearless, but that wasn't really true.  I recognize now that I was afraid each of those times, but each incident had so little fear that I didn't worry about it at all.

But as I am older, I realize that these incidents and others accumulate.  They remain in my gut, stewing, distilling, until there is just a vague fear that comes out in weird circumstances.  I withdraw, instead of stepping out, and each time that I take a step into new circumstance, I am surprised at what I am fearful of.  It is like learning what my kryptonite is, because I never knew it before.

I am scared of middle class people, of their hidden judgments and powers.  The fact that they can use politics and courts and police to force their will upon me.  I am afraid of losing all the supports I have for my family-- the boundaries I put around them and the wealth I use to keep them safe and growing.  I afraid of large, angry men.  But mostly I am afraid that I lack the charisma and social power I used to have to make people do what the ought.  I had greater confidence in my psychic power than I did in God's power to step in and help.  Frankly, just look at the classic stories.  God didn't always help.  He let people suffer and die all the time.  So the Bible was never a confidence-booster.

I am still doing things others wouldn't.  I appreciate houseless folk more than I ever did.  I talked one guy to explore with me in my car for an afternoon and he showed me local camps.  But you see, he has way more to fear from me than I do from him.  I need to make it worth his while, to be a good listening ear, to give him some money for his time.  To bolster his confidence that I'm not the kind of guy afraid of him.

Roosevelt was right: We need only fear fear.  Not so much fear in ourselves, but fear in others.  When others are afraid that you are going to take the very things they have rested their security on, that's when you need to fear.  We do not fear our fear, but the fear of others.

But I am afraid of my fear.  I am afraid of the weakness it presents.  The fact that my fear could overcome my compassion and limit my actions.  I am afraid that I will fear the next large man I come across, that he might throw a TV at me.  That I might not take a radical action because a government official might take away my family's house.  I'm setting up protections against that.  But still.

I still don't mind getting arrested.  Looking forward to my next opportunity.