Overcoming Fear; or Why Rejection Sucks, But In a Good Way

"And in that moment, I had to decide that all my fears would not be allowed to rob from me the life I longed for. And so 25 years ago, I stepped into that fear and went through it and asked Kim to be my wife. And in that moment, my life changed for the better in a way that I could have never known. And I want you to know...that there is a life worth pursuing on the other side of your fears."

-Erwin McManus, testifying to his fear of commitment at the end of a sermon entitled, Fear.

Having spent a good portion of my life letting my fears dictate my decisions, I know what it feels like to know I've missed out on something more. I know the pain of seeing disappointment in someone's eyes as I refuse their offer, their suggestion to help me grow. I've been so consumed by fears that, at times, I have longed for the heartache of regret to just go numb so I could just get through this life and be content to live a life unfulfilled, because it just seemed easier not to try. But I thank God so much for that heartache, that painful reminder that I was made for something more, and that life is not something to get through, but something to be experienced, to be filled with experience, and with joy, and with sorrow, and love and tears and hugs and community and smiles and a million moments with a million different emotions, all of it drawing me closer to the God who made me and loves me and wants me to live. And not just me, but all of us.

Fear is a strange thing. It's something we all deal with, yet it's different for each of us. While I struggle with a fear of being judged, I have friends who show absolutely no care at all for what others might think of them. Yet they have their own fears (fears of heights, of water, large crowds, etc.) that I don't struggle with at all. Why does fear work like that? I don't know. Why am I able to hang by a few short ropes and small metal carabiners 40, 50 feet above the ground without a worry, but I can't convince myself to speak up and talk in front of large groups and crowds? Why is it that, while I'm up there in those trees, happy as a monkey with a whole bunch of bananas, across some wires on another tree is a person who is just freaking out and on the brink of tears because they can't find the courage in themselves to step out on those wires and trust what something inside of them is trying so hard to tell them, that those ropes, those carabiners, and that belayer down on the ground are not going to let them fall? And yet a few days later, I see that same person stand up before an entire camp and testify of their camp experience, without the slightest fear of what everyone listening to them will think of them?

We all struggle with fears of some sort as we walk through life. Fears of spiders, clowns, the dark, total silence...the list goes on. But it's what we do with those fears that really matters.

In that quote above, Erwin McManus was talking about how, once upon a time, he was afraid to step up and commit to his then girlfriend, Kim. Kim's friends had advised her to break up with Erwin, because he clearly showed no desire to commit to her. So he found himself faced with his fear, and decided he loved her too much to let his fear of commitment ruin something that could be so good. And as he said, it was a risk that paid off better than he could have hoped.

Looking fear in the face, weighing the differences, and realizing that doing something is almost always better than doing nothing is where fear is overcome. Stepping up, stepping out, letting go of yourself and trusting God to get you through whatever the outcome may be...especially when it's quite possible that outcome will be the one you hope it isn't.

Almost four years ago now, I made that fateful trip that I mentioned in another post; very spurt of the moment, at this sudden urging in my heart, I drove from Michigan to Kentucky to tell a girl that I had feelings for her beyond just those of friendship. Was it because I thought this was a good idea? Hecks no. Most of me was shouting at myself, Dude, you know she doesn't like you like that. What are you doing this for? And the rest of me was tossing in there, Do you know how crazy and stupid this looks and sounds? This wouldn't be news to her; she knew I had a crush on her. I'd even told her in a letter a few months earlier (which is a whole other story). I couldn't afford to spend money on gas and food. None of my friends down there knew I was coming. I couldn't think of a single logical reason to go. But in my heart, I knew that this was a risk I needed to take. To do something I'd never done before, to tell a girl face to face that I had feelings for her. An experience I had avoided all my life with any girl I had ever really liked. It needed to be done, despite the fact that it was 99.9% sure to be awkward as all get out and would just confirm for me yet again that this girl did not see me the way I saw her. So I made the trip, I told her how I felt, and sure enough, I got rejected.

Does that mean I shouldn't have bothered? Because there was no sudden happy ending twist, I should have given in to the fear of rejection and avoided a potentially painful and embarrassing experience? No. Because when you step out into fear to overcome it, it doesn't matter what the outcome is; you've just broken the hold that fear has over you, or at the very least weakened its hold. You've called the bluff and laid down your cards, and after all has been played out, you find that whether you won or lost, you've learned something of great value in that experience.

After that night, my fear of telling a girl how I feel about her was severely diminished. It wasn't eradicated entirely; I still struggle with it because, really, who wants to get rejected? But it no longer held me paralyzed and unable to try when faced with the decision to ask a girl out or not. And beyond that, it destroyed the lies that came along with the fears, those discouraging voices that would remind me of all those other times I'd given way to fear and would say to me, See? You can't do it. You're too afraid. Just like all those other times. You might as well just let this opportunity go by as well because you know you don't have it in you. To give yourself even just one time when you stopped listening to those lies, those discouraging voices, and instead stepped out and took the chance...to have that memory of a fear once overcome is so empowering, and it makes it easier to step up and overcome it again, and again, and again, until it's gone.

The trick, though, is taking that first step...and I'll be the first to admit, I'm not very good at it. There are still so many moments in life when I find myself faced with an opportunity to take a chance and not give in to fear for once, yet I don't seize the moment. I let another chance to grow slip by, another moment to possibly impact someone's life, or to speak truth or encouragement or even needed rebuke into someone's life, or even just to make someone smile. But by God's help, more and more firsts have been taken in my life, and I pray that more and more come along as soon as possible, because I'm sick of seeing those moments slip by and hearing those discouraging thoughts of shame mock me and degrade me. I'm tired of not living fully the life God gave me.

Over this last weekend, I found myself faced with an opportunity to step outside of my comfort zones and do something I've never really done before. I'm not all that comfortable with physical contact beyond simple high fives, fist bumps, and the occasional side hug. Especially when it comes to girls. Yet on Saturday, I found myself hanging out with a friend who is about as opposite from me as one can get: talkative, very friendly, very comfortable with physical contact, and most of all, she's a girl. And she hugged me. Honestly, enough times that day that I lost count. Because that's who she is, and that's cool. And I really appreciated it, because it helped me let go a bit of my fears of physical contact, so much so that I even took a picture with her, with my arms around her shoulders, smiling wide, with my face right next to hers. And if you've ever seen any photos of me, you know that pictures like that just don't exist. So that was good :)

But then there was this other friend, also a girl, also in that group I hung out with on Saturday, who I didn't do so well with. While waiting for our friends to purchase their apple-picking bags and baskets (we went apple picking at this orchard a few hours northwest of the city. It was awesome. I totally recommend it), she and I sat outside. And while we watched other apple pickers walking by, we noticed someone in the distance lose an apple from the top of their bag. It slipped off the pile and fell to the ground unnoticed amongst the feet of families walking to and fro (woot! first use of the word "fro" in my blog!) And my friend turned to me and told me how funny she thought it would be if I'd jump up and rush over there, dive on the apple, and start eating it as though I were half-starved. I laughed, because, yes, that would have looked hilarious and would have gotten a lot of strange looks from the passersby. But I chose not to do it. I made up some excuses, like how I wasn't hungry (which was true, we'd just had lunch; but still, I could have easily eaten a few bites of an apple), and I just sat there and watched the poor, lost apple get kicked around a bit before someone finally picked it up, decided it was no good anymore, and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

A simple suggestion from a friend; a simple offer to overcome a fear and take hold of an opportunity to step outside my usual character and do something out of the ordinary; a chance to just make a friend laugh. And I let my fears of what the people around us would think keep me from doing it. And yeah, it seems so small, so forgettable. And she may not even really remember that moment now. It may have just come and gone like a bit of wind on a still day. But when you've been given as many chances just like that as I have, and have let so many slip by and had to endure that sigh as your friend accepts that you're just not going to do it, it adds up. And I wish I would have just done it. Just as I wish I would have done a thousand other little silly things over the years.

You can't just create moments like that. Like a good joke, they just have to happen when the moment is right. So I can't go back to her and say, Let me try that again.

[Update: The rest of this post has been removed for two reasons. A) This entry is already too long, and B) Sometimes in life, you have to step back and look at things from a distance, and once you do, you see them clearer than you could up close. And when I reread this entry, the ending didn't feel right anymore. In some future post here one day, I may explain why, so stay tuned...]