Sarx

F PERFECT LOVE Drives out all fear, I’ve got a long way to go. At the age of 45 I’m finally getting over my fear of the dark. I was always quite good with dark outside: I can walk through the woods or ride a bike (or scooter) in the countryside. I can even navigate in scary dark urbanscapes well. But inside a house has been just a bit much for me until recently. Oddly, living in a Victorian mansion (if any place I’ve ever lived deserved to be haunted…) I have no problem walking into the basement to the laundry or creeping around the stairs at night.

When I’m honest: the only reason I didn’t get a driver’s license was fear. I still can’t bring myself to trust the other drivers in their two-tonne gas bombs coming at me.

I can, of course, do some things that scare the living daylights out of other folks: preaching for one. I can move across country without a job, a social network or any serious means of support without fear, trusting in my own skills and luck. I can navigate in churches and political circles where most of my friends would experience head explosions. I can bear my feelings on the blog and crowd-source for a solution or discussion.

But I fear conflict, I fear reaction. I fear other folks’ (and my own) anger. I fear breaking rules. I’m certainly one of those folks who goes *because* the light is green rather than *when* the light is green. Fear, of course, promptly breeds distrust and that last (distrust) is the opposite of love. It takes me only a moment to trust you. It takes me quite a long time to trust you enough not to distrust you (if that makes sense). I fear competition: where one has to win and another has to loose. I’ve no sense at all that anyone must loose and I know that the world acts as though that’s one of the rules. In my own social circles I’d rather construct win-win situations or else no-win situations. I fear team or “us” mentality.

Fans, Fanatics and Patriots are as scary to me as Terrorists and I think there’s a mental disconnect there that lets really scary things happen. Preaching about Jesus at a Mosque on Friday will, I bet, get far better results than cheering for the “wrong” team at a game with a bunch of drunk fans.

Ironically, fear breeds lust and there is something erotic about the scene in the stadium.

I fear power – my own, usually, although I find it very erotic in other people. I mean that literally: hot, trusting and totally engrossing. An abusive clergy person is, like an abusive boss or cop, just another level of sexual tension for me. But my own power: to lead, to guide – I have these… I’m only just coming to terms with them.

In a confession a year ago I was fill with fear. I’ve been wrestling with it ever since.

What fear does perfect love drive out?

How?