Fear

In 2008 Sean and I were dating and his brother, Brian, called with news that he had gotten a permit to hike Mystery Canyon in Utah’s Zion National Park (pictured above) and wanted to invite Sean. The park only allowed 12 hikers per day on the canyon, and Brian’s permit allowed him to take 6 people (himself + five others) one day in July. It was a rigorous 10 mile hike and I was training for a half marathon so I asked to come along. Brian agreed to it, but I had no idea what I was signing myself up for. Yes, the hike was 10 miles, but that 10 miles started with a 3,000 foot ascent on switchbacks to the top of the canyon, and ended with more than 15 rappels on the way back down. The last rappel was down a 120 foot waterfall into a river. Luckily, Brian and his buddies had a ton of technical climbing experience. Unluckily, I was scared of heights. The day we arrived at Zion and started to explore the park, I got a bit of vertigo on an easy day hike and Brian started to worry that I would need a helicopter rescue in the canyon. Once you go in to Mystery Canyon, there’s no way out without going down the waterfall. I spent that evening at our campsite agonizing over whether or not I should just bail and wait in the tent the next day.

I went that day. I finally relented when one of Brian’s buddies told me he had brought his 12-year-old daughter on the hike months earlier and if she could do it, I could too. I didn’t look down as I headed up the switchbacks. I had two lines from a Dixie Chicks song running through my head for the first couple hours - “God help me, am I the only one who’s ever felt this way?” The song has nothing to do with climbing or hiking but my brain needed something to perseverate on in that moment so I went with it. Once we made it up the side of the canyon, crossed the top, and began to rappel, I remembered the words of my (now) brother-in-law, “You just have to have faith in the system, and trust that we know the system.” With each rappel, I took a deep breath, made the decision to trust, and let myself fall until I felt the tug of the rope beneath me. It worked. Toward the end of our hike it started to rain and I noticed Brian and his buddies exchanging nervous, silent glances. They had failed to mention that hiking this canyon was not recommended if rain was the in forecast because of the extreme danger of flash floods in a slot canyon. They tried to remain calm while urging us to move quickly. As we arrived at the final descent and the first experienced climber swung down to belay, I volunteered to go next. I had conquered the canyon but I was ready to be on solid ground. I breathed in “you can do this” and breathed out “you’re doing this” as I lowered myself down the waterfall, and cried tears of exhilaration when I reached the bottom and stood calf deep in the river. My first thought was, “That was AMAZING” and my second thought was, “I will NEVER do that again.”

Fears have led my life way too often. For many years my fear of heights, which has shifted to a fear of watching my children fall off a cliff, prevented me from exploring the beauty of the Pacific Northwest with my family. I’m immensely thankful for my friend Dawn who finally convinced us to join her family a couple of weeks ago in Olympic National Park. With a great deal of respect for my fears, she brought me on hikes that were exactly what I needed to fall in love with trails without being paralyzed by fear. The day after we got home I texted her with, “You won’t believe this, but do you want to go hiking with the kids tomorrow?”

My fear of cockroaches has held too much weight in the travel decisions I’ve made about tropical locations. I’ll never forget the day I called Sean from Costa Rica in the middle of the night. We were dating and I was studying Spanish and he was home in Chicago and I called him to tell him there was a cockroach in my bedroom. “So… how do you want me to help you with this?” he asked me. I was frozen with fear and I just needed someone to talk me through my next steps. Eventually, I woke up my host family’s teenage daughter and she graciously searched my room. To no avail. “Se escapó,” she said sleepily while she shrugged. It escaped. WHAT?! I found a can of bug spray and sprayed a perimeter around my twin bed hoping I could convince my tired brain that the cockroaches would at least respect the boundary. The next day in my language lesson as I described my encounter, I wasn’t met with comfort. I was met with many stories of other students finding these insects in their jeans or shoes or suitcases. It was not helpful.

While I still have my fears of heights and bugs, if I’m being completely authentic, the fear I’ve wrestled with the most the past few years is the fear of what others will think. In 2016 I gave up drinking altogether for no significant reason except that I was running a lot and I ran more and felt better when I didn’t drink. When I first stopped drinking I put way too much time and energy into wondering how others would react when they found out I was a non-drinker. How would I explain why I didn’t drink? Would they assume I was pregnant? Would they feel comfortable hanging out with me if I wasn’t having a beer? Could I still go to happy hour? Would they think I wasn’t fun? It took me awhile, but I eventually realized that people almost always cared more about who they were hanging out with than what their friends were drinking. Whether we’re chatting over a glass of wine or a kombucha, the love and laughter of the friendship remains the same. I’ve also learned that if someone is that hung up on my not drinking that they can’t be around me, then they’re likely not looking for the same thing out of friendship that I am.

The fear of what others will think shows up in other places too. What if I’m in a group run and I have to stop and walk because I’m too tired? Will they not want to run with me again? What if I’m teaching in Spanish and I conjugate a verb wrong? Will they think my Spanish is terrible and I shouldn’t be a bilingual teacher? What if I start to tell a story and they’ve already heard that one before? Will they think I tell too many stories? What if they read my book or my blog and I have a misplaced comma or a run-on sentence? Will they think I’m a terrible writer? What if my post on social media doesn’t come across the way I meant it to? Will they unfriend me? In the world of major political divides and a global pandemic, the fear of “what will they think” gets amplified with every post, every share, every retweet, and every like. With everything I’ve been learning about race and justice, I’ve wanted to speak out about injustice but I’ve been held back for fear of screwing it up.

Most recently, these fears have surfaced again as I’ve become more authentic about faith in my life. I share openly about my desire to live out a kingdom calling, and I quickly find myself wondering, “What will they think?” Will they think I’ve gone off the deep end? Will they think I’m going to try to convert them? I was running with a new neighbor friend recently and as we chatted she said, “You’ve gotta be sh.. er.. KIDDING me!” I turned back to her and said “You can totally say ‘You’ve gotta be shitting me! I will not be offended in the least.” Two days later I thanked my friend Brittney for swearing in a comment she left under my Facebook post because I so appreciated that even though she’s watched my page transform into something a little more spiritual, she knows that I’m still her friend Meg and I would still not be offended by her swearing.

A couple weeks ago, I actually expressed these fears openly in a conversation with Sean. I said, “What do you think people think of all the spiritual talk I’ve had lately?! Do they think I’m some kind of spiritual KOOK??” He thought about it for a minute before responding. “No,” he said with a smile, “I think they’ve always known you’re a spiritual kook!”

In the age of “Untamed” and releasing the inner cheetah, I have to agree with Glennon Doyle and say that the ability to live in freedom, true to my own authentic self, is one thousand times worth the fears that I have to push past to live that way. Being authentic about the fact that my faith is my number one source of strength is like finally discovering that I can actually rappel down the side of a 120 foot waterfall. What was I waiting for? How much joy was I missing out on? For once I can partner with God to silence the “What will they think?” fears while He answers them with a resounding “It doesn’t matter what they think. You are My daughter.” Exactly like what my brother-in-law taught me with rappelling, God is teaching me that I just need to have faith, and He will catch me when I let go. He will get me through the storms too. In the end, I know it will be more exhilarating than I could have ever imagined.

Then Jesus said to His disciples, "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me.  For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.  For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?  Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?"  Matthew 16:24-26

I will praise you, Lord, among the nations; I will sing of you among the peoples.  For great is your love, reaching to the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the skies.  Be exalted, O God, above the heavens; let your glory be over all the earth. Psalm 57:9-11