Today, I’m so excited to welcome a new friend of mine, Chaka Heinze, to the Confessions blog series. She has quite the interesting take on fear. Read on, my friends!
I have a confession to make. It is not something I like to acknowledge in myself, let alone admit to the vast landscape of the internet where roving, multi-eyed creatures with barbed fangs lurk in shadow, looking to devour misstepping mortals. Did I mention the creatures leer at me with the stark white faces and bright red lips of painted clowns? (Thank you Stephen King.)
I digress.
I have a confession to make. Fear has been my unwelcome companion for as long as I can remember. It taunts me with sibilant whispers when I’m faced with the unfamiliar, the uncomfortable … or asked to drive and meet anyone anywhere in the wild places of the unknown. (The streets of Omaha, Nebraska can be terrifying for those who are used to orienting themselves using the rugged peaks of the Rockies. West. Always West.)
Fear slithers up to coil heavily on my chest in the night as I consider the conversations of the day, the well-being of my children, the lunacy of the upcoming election, or the depravity and violence that is becoming a daily occurrence both in America and around the world.
Fear strikes at me with unbridled venom whenever my son has a heart event and we end up in the hospital again.
If you think about it, there are countless manifestations of fear to contemplate from the moment you get up in the morning until you fall “safely” into bed again at night. I won’t name them all here, because focusing on fear has a way of empowering the beasties and turning garden snakes into leviathans.
As a child, I had one major weapon against the fear—I could control the narrative. If I had free time, I read. If it was time to go to bed, I told myself stories. Books and my stories were a safe place to test boundaries, have adventures, and explore the environment around me. During those days, I sometimes existed in the realms of dragons and elves or in the mind of another child tiptoeing through the minefield of puberty. And during the night, I imagined myself the main character in some fantastical drama in which I saved the world and got the boy. Well, sometimes … I just got the boy.
Fear drove me into the inner workings of my own imagination. And in there I learned to make magic.
As a grownup (a title that can only be loosely applied), I still wrestle with that great snake. Fear. But let me be clear—the beastie is no longer my master. This heart is under new management. Though fear still lurks about the edges striking at my heels whenever it senses a vulnerability, it no longer controls, stifles, or prevails (for long).
But I’m grateful. Instead of tearing me apart or killing my dreams, dealing with the fear helped me to find my voice. Both my spiritual and mental muscles have been strengthened in my battle against the simpering nuisance.
So I have a confession to make. I struggle with fear, and that’s okay. Because I know how this story ends.
How do you deal with fear?
Author Bio:
Chaka Heinze lives in Nebraska with her husband, four children, and two havanese pups. She is a keynote speaker with the ministry Wholly Loved and enjoys talking to groups of women about the faithfulness of God through difficult times. Chaka has always admired C.S. Lewis and desires to emulate his ability to glorify God without slapping people in the face with religion. Her debut novel, Under A Withering Sun, is in the process of being re-released (stay tuned for more details). She is a member of ACFW and NWG.
Find out more on her website: chakaheinze.com.
