Fear.
“Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe.”1
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I know when fear broke me. The unexpected and uncontrollable breakup of my birth family, explained in a previous post, left me with a wound that rides me. I find it difficult to lose myself in the joys of living. Fear uses the indeterminate future to kick me, convulsively, in the ribs. Adventure turns to anxiety. Laugh lines become worry lines. Even when I find success, fear jerks the reins by reciting stories of foolish members of my family tree squandering opportunities in profession, family, and wealth creation. “You’re next,” it warns in a hoarse whisper. “You must go back on the defensive and protect what you have.” I feel weighed down. I slow to a walk. But my fear goads me to return to a frenetic gait.
I obey.
I seek wisdom in the book of Proverbs. Instead of finding consolation, I read “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”2 I can feel the rider’s whip. This is the third time Solomon has used that phrase.3 Those three lashes will be followed by another nine before this Biblical book is through.4 I pull back at the threat.
In “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” the headless horseman and his steed are “…tethered nightly among the graves of the churchyard.” That’s such a powerful description of the way that many people experience religion; something which ties them down in fear and guilt. Isn’t that the kind of religion that Solomon is recommending? Why else would he urge me to fear more? My knee-jerk reaction is to buck this message, to throw all of my fears off my back. I long to be free, not further constrained; to be a wild horse kicking and galloping and whinnying wherever I desire, unencumbered by fear, unlimited by any purpose or direction beyond my own.
Yet fear and anxiety seem far from Solomon’s mind when he uses this term. The phrase doesn’t agitate him as it does me. In Proverbs 9 the fear of the Lord is said almost in passing. He doesn’t follow it up by defining “fear.” It is almost an afterthought, or a forethought; something he needs to say before he gets to his real focus. For him, the fear of the Lord is the necessary starting point for living life fruitfully.
“The fear of the Lord…is the power to override their other fears, to find the courage to do what is right and just.”
Solomon isn’t alone. The phrase “the fear of the Lord” is used many other times in the Bible. Perhaps most instructive is the story of two Israelite midwives living as slaves under the Egyptians. Both Shiphrah and Puah had every reason to fear the power of the Egyptians. When they were told to kill every male baby they brought into this world their fear should have cowed them into obedience. But they weren’t driven by the whip of their Egyptian oppressors. They found an almost superhuman ability to disobey their masters. Where did their freedom from fear come from?
The midwives, however, feared God and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them to do…. 5
The fear of the Lord isn’t a call to enslavement for Shiphrah and Puah. It’s the power to override their other fears, to find the courage to do what is right and just. The fear of the Lord made them free.
I’ve been taught that fear is always my enemy, an external constraint that hinders my individual will. Freedom, then, is unsaddling this constraint and letting my will run wild and free. But I see a dramatically different assumption underneath the Biblical use of “the fear of the Lord.”
It goes something like this: Our fears have broken our will. Our fear and our will are complicit in stealing our freedom. Together they saddle us, ride us, drive us. Together they betray us. It follows, then, that we cannot use our broken will to unsaddle our fears. Freedom isn’t “no bridle,” but the right bridle. It isn’t “no harness,” but the right harness. It isn’t “no saddle,” but the right saddle. It’s exchanging my self-imposed fears with a better fear. It’s putting my broken and complicit will into the hands of a more kindly and accomplished rider.
Using a slightly different metaphor, Jesus offers to be just such a person:
‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’6
As I read these words, I realize that the fear of the Lord overrides the fears that control us. It unseats the harsh rider by separating our will from the fears that broke it in the first place. It unifies that divided will with the One whom we were all made for. It enables us, like Shiphrah and Puah, to overcome our fears with the courage to makegoodhappen.
The Lord is my rider. The fear of the Lord is my companion. Together they have removed the heavy saddle, the sharp bit, and the tight bridle of my broken will and replaced it with a light and easy tack. They are not burdensome. The Lord is a skillful rider. His bit and bridle are necessary. I’m still much too serious. I worry and fret when I could simply enjoy what’s been given to me. The habits of my broken will run deep but my knight errant is patient. Each morning I paw the ground awaiting his arrival. Once he is gallantly mounted as Lord of my life, I trot, cantor, and gallop through the day. He leads me into green pastures. When evening comes he restores my soul.
The fear of the Lord is, indeed, the beginning of wisdom.
Proverbs 29:25
Proverbs 9:10.
Proverbs 1:7, 2:9.
Proverbs 10:27, 14:27, 15:16, 16:6, 19:23, 22:4, 23:17, 24:21, 29:25.