Last evening I was talking on the telephone to one of my grandchildren in Utah. I mentioned to him that his grandmother and I had seen "Kung Fu Panda" on Saturday and that we had seen both the new Indiana Jones movie and "Prince Caspian" in the last two weeks. He complained that his parents didn't think he was old enough to see the second two but that he was looking forward to seeing "Kung Fu Panda" soon and, as soon as he was old enough, he would buy all the Indiana Jones movies and watch them in one day.
I told him it was probably good that he wait to see the second two as they could be a little scary in places. He responded with the seriousness of a judge: "Scary doesn't bother me. I'll have you know that I sleep on the top bunk!"
It was all I could do to keep from laughing, but I held it back, knowing he would have been devastated if I laughed. I also resisted the temptation to ask him if he was riding his bike without the training wheels yet. I was worried, though, that he was not and I didn't want to embarrass him.
Later I thought about the perspective of courage and how life's experiences can both reduce one's fear at things once found to be terrifying, and increase it for things for things about which he rarely even considered at one time.
When I was young, I was never afraid of driving in traffic or speeding in the process. I was never afraid of walking alone at night in the city because I was never really alone, or getting sick or getting hurt in a fistfight. I was never afraid of strangers. I was never afraid of the deep end or big waves or sharks in the ocean.
I was afraid, however, of both my mother and my father - although for very different reasons. I was afraid of getting a poor grade as I was sure it would ruin my future. I was afraid that everyone might not like me. I was terrified of being alone in the country where I was truly alone. I was afraid I would never please my parents. I was terrified when someone came close to learning the truth about my family and, therefore, about me.
Now I am older and I get nervous in traffic and when I speed. I feel nervous if I have to walk by myself in a city. I worry about getting some deadly disease and about what might happen if I were forced into a fistfight. I worry if the deep end is deep enough and I no longer surf or swim in the ocean... and not just because it is not nearby.
I am no longer afraid of my father - who is dead, but I am afraid for him. I am not scared of my mother, even knowing she is emotionally unstable and quick to rage. I feel sad for her. I wish I had not worried about my grades because I know now how little they really mattered. One of the most pleasant experiences in life is to be absolutely alone in the woods or on a stream. It is not only refreshing, but healing.
I no longer am concerned with pleasing my parents but only my God, who I do not fear in the way we generally speak of fear nor do I worry so much as to hide the experiences that came in a broken family. They helped make me who I am, for better, I think, than for worse.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my memory, I remember being timid about sleeping on the top bunk. A fear I must have conquered as I had a set of bunk beds for my middle school years and alternated between the top and the bottom at my whim of the moment as I had no brother with whom I needed to share. My grandson has conquered that fear at a younger age than did I.
He remains a little timid about new things and I am as happy as I can be about that for, while he may take a while to enjoy some of life's great prizes, he would also be quicker to avoid its dangers.
I pray he will not only learn to recognize the Goliaths and the Bathshebas in his life but that he will know which one to fear and which one to confront and defeat. All of us, will meet our share of uncircumcised Philistines as well as feel the allure of a bathing beauty. Too often we run from the giants and to the woman on the roof. Too often Goliath walks into our camp unchallenged and Bathsheba accepts our lustful invitations. Both lead to personal ruin and great lessons which might be better learned by doing the right, rather than he wrong thing.
May we, like the servant of Elisha, have our blindness removed when we fear that we might see that they that be with us are more than be with them; that we might know of the angels God has posted to protect us when we love Him more than these...
