From Fearless to Fearful and Back
It’s incredible how our perception of risk changes with age and time on the field.
My first overseas appointment was in the middle of my college years. I didn’t travel far from home, just taking a two-hour flight to Central America where I’d be teaching English at a primary school. I was young and naïve, and moved into a house with five other female volunteers and very little adult supervision. We were all a bit overwhelmed by the responsibility and the independence. Can you spell trouble? We planned weekend trips on buses to cities we’d never been to and went about our life in this small Honduran town as if we’d never left the United States. For example, my friend and I would go running through town in our shorts and T-shirts, never once thinking about how no respectable Honduran woman would be caught dead doing that. We were even less concerned for our safety. Needless to say, we endured groping on the street and didn’t quite no how to handle all the excess attention we were getting from the local college boys. Long story short, we thought we were invincible, had no fear, sensed no danger, and kept our angels busy for ten months straight.
Fast forward to my first overseas appointment as an adult. I’d been married three years and trusted my American African husband, who’d grown up in Africa, to show me the ropes. Many people were worried for our safety, because we were moving to Kenya where there had just been post-election violence. We assured them that it was more dangerous to live in Chicago, where just that summer more people had been murdered than there were days in a month. And yet, this was much farther from home for me. In Honduras, I’d spoken the language and could at least relate to the culture. Africa was a whole new continent! And it didn’t take long for my confidence to be tested.
We’d been there less than a month, when we decided to borrow a school van and drive ourselves into town for some shopping at a mall. We were almost there when my cellphone rang. It was the treasurer of the school with a question for my husband. Without thinking, I handed the phone to him right in front of two police officers that immediately flagged us over. This was like no other police stop I’d ever experienced. These men were armed, got into our vehicle and told us to drive them to the police station. It turns out, it is illegal to drive and talk on your cellphone in Kenya. They asked for my husband’s driver’s license, took down his information on a scrap sheet of paper, and told us we’d have to pay a huge fine or spend time in jail. All the while, they were telling my husband to drive, but being very vague about where the police station was. Jail! I was too young to go to jail. What would our organization think? What would they do? My mind was racing, and I wondered at my husband’s sense of calm. He kept apologizing for the wrong we’d done, explaining we were new to the country, but the officers kept insisting we give them money or else. After ten minutes of this, I’d had all I could take. I just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. One of the officers was taken aback and said, “Sorry, madam. We never meant to make you cry,” to which I sputtered, “But, you did!” They immediately gave my husband back his documents, told us to pull into the nearest parking lot, and with a warning to never do it again, left. Wow! All that fear and trepidation, and all they’d wanted was a bribe?!? Boy was I mad! It wasn’t the last time we were pulled over, but it was definitely harder to cry after that.
In a few short years I’d gone from fearless to fearful.
Each year we were overseas, my fear became less. With growing cultural understanding, I became confident again, but never as overconfident as I’d been in my youth. And now, I find myself back in my home country and it seems the pendulum has swung the other direction once more. Whenever I tell someone that I’ve just returned from Egypt, they ask me if I felt safe there. I assure them I did, and joke that I’m more afraid for my safety here in the United States. But, it’s no joke. Shortly after we returned, my sister took me out for a girl’s night: dinner and a movie. After the previews, an announcement was made that ruined my evening. “Please report any suspicious behavior during the movie immediately.” That was enough to have me afraid of every movement off-screen. I spent the entire moving planning my escape route rather than relaxing. It didn’t matter that I’d been evacuated from a country because of a revolution or traveled on streets that had later been bombed before. It didn’t matter that this was my home country and culture, a place I’d grownup with and new intimately. The fear was back fresh.
I pray that in time it too will ease. And yet, I long for our heavenly home. God never intended for us to spend our lives calculating risks and living in fear of what might happen. That’s the devil’s way of robbing us of the peace God desires for our lives.
“I give you my peace. My peace I leave you. I do not give it as the world does, so do not let your hearts be troubled. Don’t be afraid.” (John 14:27, ICB)
How has your perception of risk changed over your lifetime? Where have you felt the most fear and trepidation? What Bible promises do you claim at those times?
Linking up with Velvet Ashes Risking
My first overseas appointment was in the middle of my college years. I didn’t travel far from home, just taking a two-hour flight to Central America where I’d be teaching English at a primary school. I was young and naïve, and moved into a house with five other female volunteers and very little adult supervision. We were all a bit overwhelmed by the responsibility and the independence. Can you spell trouble? We planned weekend trips on buses to cities we’d never been to and went about our life in this small Honduran town as if we’d never left the United States. For example, my friend and I would go running through town in our shorts and T-shirts, never once thinking about how no respectable Honduran woman would be caught dead doing that. We were even less concerned for our safety. Needless to say, we endured groping on the street and didn’t quite no how to handle all the excess attention we were getting from the local college boys. Long story short, we thought we were invincible, had no fear, sensed no danger, and kept our angels busy for ten months straight.
Fast forward to my first overseas appointment as an adult. I’d been married three years and trusted my American African husband, who’d grown up in Africa, to show me the ropes. Many people were worried for our safety, because we were moving to Kenya where there had just been post-election violence. We assured them that it was more dangerous to live in Chicago, where just that summer more people had been murdered than there were days in a month. And yet, this was much farther from home for me. In Honduras, I’d spoken the language and could at least relate to the culture. Africa was a whole new continent! And it didn’t take long for my confidence to be tested.
We’d been there less than a month, when we decided to borrow a school van and drive ourselves into town for some shopping at a mall. We were almost there when my cellphone rang. It was the treasurer of the school with a question for my husband. Without thinking, I handed the phone to him right in front of two police officers that immediately flagged us over. This was like no other police stop I’d ever experienced. These men were armed, got into our vehicle and told us to drive them to the police station. It turns out, it is illegal to drive and talk on your cellphone in Kenya. They asked for my husband’s driver’s license, took down his information on a scrap sheet of paper, and told us we’d have to pay a huge fine or spend time in jail. All the while, they were telling my husband to drive, but being very vague about where the police station was. Jail! I was too young to go to jail. What would our organization think? What would they do? My mind was racing, and I wondered at my husband’s sense of calm. He kept apologizing for the wrong we’d done, explaining we were new to the country, but the officers kept insisting we give them money or else. After ten minutes of this, I’d had all I could take. I just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. One of the officers was taken aback and said, “Sorry, madam. We never meant to make you cry,” to which I sputtered, “But, you did!” They immediately gave my husband back his documents, told us to pull into the nearest parking lot, and with a warning to never do it again, left. Wow! All that fear and trepidation, and all they’d wanted was a bribe?!? Boy was I mad! It wasn’t the last time we were pulled over, but it was definitely harder to cry after that.
In a few short years I’d gone from fearless to fearful.
Each year we were overseas, my fear became less. With growing cultural understanding, I became confident again, but never as overconfident as I’d been in my youth. And now, I find myself back in my home country and it seems the pendulum has swung the other direction once more. Whenever I tell someone that I’ve just returned from Egypt, they ask me if I felt safe there. I assure them I did, and joke that I’m more afraid for my safety here in the United States. But, it’s no joke. Shortly after we returned, my sister took me out for a girl’s night: dinner and a movie. After the previews, an announcement was made that ruined my evening. “Please report any suspicious behavior during the movie immediately.” That was enough to have me afraid of every movement off-screen. I spent the entire moving planning my escape route rather than relaxing. It didn’t matter that I’d been evacuated from a country because of a revolution or traveled on streets that had later been bombed before. It didn’t matter that this was my home country and culture, a place I’d grownup with and new intimately. The fear was back fresh.
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| Our pre-movie selfie! |
I pray that in time it too will ease. And yet, I long for our heavenly home. God never intended for us to spend our lives calculating risks and living in fear of what might happen. That’s the devil’s way of robbing us of the peace God desires for our lives.
“I give you my peace. My peace I leave you. I do not give it as the world does, so do not let your hearts be troubled. Don’t be afraid.” (John 14:27, ICB)
How has your perception of risk changed over your lifetime? Where have you felt the most fear and trepidation? What Bible promises do you claim at those times?
Linking up with Velvet Ashes Risking
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