The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.
FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT
When a young couple moved in next door we met the new neighbors, but not their dog. Visiting them was not that easy, because they were very busy. They were fixing up their beautiful home and large yard with a pool, guesthouse, and horse facilities. They both had demanding jobs as well.
I wasn’t sure what all their pets were, but I was aware of their large, frightening dog. I hadn’t seen him, but I had heard his huge, bellowing bark. I was just sure that if our little Squitchey got in his way, he could gobble her up in one bite. And when we had a big rain, I knew Squitchey would have an easy job of digging her way under the fence until my husband, Steve, could repair each soft place with rocks.
One day Squitchey heard the man next door working on his yard. She didn’t know the property boundaries and was out to protect her family. She dug her way under the fence and barked furiously at him with all seven pounds of her spirited little body. Steve heard the ruckus and ran out to save the neighbor. I figured if the man’s dog had been with him, Squitchey would have more than met her match—which made me all the more nervous about this “monster.” Every time Scary Larry (as I had nicknamed him) barked, I felt compelled to check our backyard for Squitchey to make sure she had not become his next meal.
Finally, I decided that I had been afraid long enough. It was time to meet this beast and see if my imagination was bigger than the dog himself. I wrapped up some homemade cookies and walked over.
Jenna, the wife, came driving home just as I arrived. We met at the front door and I gave her the cookies and asked to meet her dog. She wanted to know which one. So now I found out there were two beasts living next door to me! I said I’d like to meet them both. She led me to the backyard and there, behind a fence, were the beasts—not Scary Larry, but Buddy and Belle. Belle was a beautiful white Lab. She was as sweet as could be, and I would have liked to go behind the fence and pet her. But the other beast, Buddy the Dalmatian, didn’t give me quite as warm a welcome as Belle did. He growled and barked and showed his teeth—but Jenna assured me that he would not attack. I talked to both of them and Buddy settled down a bit. Maybe next time I’ll go behind the fence and get to know them better. I do feel confident that one day soon we will all be friends.
Scary Larry the monster dog wasn’t real. He was a figment of my fears. He didn’t live anywhere but in my head. Now I have a confession to make. Many years ago I gave a young schoolboy a “Scary Larry” type of fright by pretending to be a monster myself.
I was 19 years old and traveling with a professional Christian music group. We were touring one of England’s many castles. It was more in ruins than many of the others. I loved standing away from the group, pretending I was royalty and was in the market for a castle to buy.
It was a cool day and I was wearing a dark brown coat with white fur on the collar and cuffs. My tour group went ahead of me as I stayed behind to check out the kitchen. It had a huge cave-like oven big enough to hold several people. It was dark in the castle and even darker in the oven. I heard a group of schoolchildren coming and decided to have some fun. I crawled way into the back of the oven, put my arms around my face, and sat quietly until the children arrived.
One curious little boy slowly walked to the face of the oven. I began to move my arms a bit. He alerted his teacher that something was in the oven. His teacher didn’t sound too concerned, probably assuming the boy’s imagination was running away with him. She called him over to her—but he crept closer to me. So I made a low growling noise. The boy screamed and took off. I squelched my giggles and sat quietly until they all left. It was ornery of me, but it sure was fun. I owe that little boy an apology. I’m sure he thought he was going to be a beast’s lunch that day.
Not all our fear monsters are pretend. Some of them are rooted in reality. Recently I have been dealing with the fear of dying. I’m not afraid of dying, really, because I know I will be in heaven with my Savior. I just don’t want to leave my husband or the rest of my family yet. This beast of fear is no idle worry. Three years ago I underwent a quadruple bypass, and not long ago I spent four days in the hospital with another heart problem. I had several major tests, including an angiogram. Steve stayed with me and our daughter Christy came to visit but couldn’t bear to watch me being taken by gurney to the examining room. The doctors found a blocked artery they’ve been able to treat with medication.
I believe the beast called Satan has been using my health concerns to growl at me, putting unnecessary fear in my life. But I don’t have to let him make this monster bigger than it is. God reminds me in His Word that He is in control. According to Psalm 139:16, “All the days ordained for me were written in [God’s] book before one of them came to be.” He knew the days of my life long before I was born. I am in His hands.
Scary Larry—that is, Buddy—is not going to eat Squitchey. He’s a good dog. He was only a beast of my imagination. Satan is very real, but my Savior is protecting me from him. God is in charge.
I am learning once again that monster fear is not from God. So I think I’ll go over and visit my new friends Buddy and Belle.
I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears (Psalm 34:4).
Has fear created any monsters in your life? What are they? What makes them so scary? Which are imaginary and which are rooted in reality? Which Scriptures might cut them down to size and remind you that God is bigger?