The Other Kind of Fear

I'm thinking a lot about the fear of the Lord lately.

I think that this is one of those things most often mis-interpreted. I remember hearing Oprah say once that she stopped putting her faith solely in God because her pastor said that God is a jealous God... and she thought, "God is jealous of ME?!" For whatever reason it never occurred to her that God was jealous FOR her.... and she lost faith.

This is like that.

We could lose faith over that word... fear.

It sounds disturbing. Why does God wants us to be afraid of him? How do you fear someone you are supposed to love? It just doesn't seems like pieces to the same puzzle.

Fear?

But, for whatever reason, I've been thinking about it all the time. I'm even finding myself hungry for it... whatever it is.

I've discovered that this kind of fear is not the kind of fear that makes you run screaming from the big, scary monster hunting you. It isn't the kind of fear that sells horror movies. It isn't the kind of fear you feel when you know that your boss doesn't really like you and might fire you, or make you look bad, at any moment. And it isn't the kind of fear you feel when you know that other people don't like what you are doing...

This kind of fear is better known as reverence.

And reverence isn't an often used word in every day life. Reverence seems to fit in better with stained glass windows and hymnals.

When I was younger I was very judgemental of other Christian beliefs. I said I wasn't, but I was. I thought that the best way to worship God was with loud music, dancing in the aisle and boisterous praying. I had no interest whatsoever in worship services where people read out loud or sang old, old songs. They were boring and dated. God had moved on. I was sure of it.

And then I lost myself a little bit. I ended a very bad relationship and moved far away from my entire community to a little island in the Puget Sound. I lived with my aunt, uncle and cousin. Basically I was home by myself all day. Most days I took long walks, sat out by the water, or just sat in the living room, looking out over the water, and trying to process my broken heart. I cried a lot.

And I forgot how to pray. I just couldn't recall how to get passionate enough.

I tried to go to church at the small community church on the island. It was, after all, the kind of service God liked best. But I felt emptier when I left than I had when I entered.

So, I started going to church with my aunt and my cousin. They were Episcopalian. Their church was nestled into lots of soft, green trees just off the highway. It had wooden pews, big open windows and hymnals for every worshipper. I found Jesus there.

There was something so moving about those old prayers. When I read them out loud, along with everyone else, I was so taken with the realization that people had been praying these words for hundreds of years. I didn't need to remember how to pray. They had left me a trail to follow. There was mercy for me in that church with their dated worship.

I found reverence for God in those beautiful services. Communion came alive. Silence bloomed underneath me like new and fresh earth. It was the beginning of my conversion to true faith, deep hope, and absolute longing for more than what I had left behind me with my broken heart.

So, ten years later I'm wondering, again, about reverence.

Which takes me to 2 Corinthians 7:1

"Since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God."

I always have to know what the Message version says...

"With promises like this to pull us on, dear friends, let's make a clean break with everything that defiles or distracts us, both within and without. Let's make our entire lives fit and holy temples for the worship of God. More Passionate, More Responsible."

Let's make a clean break with everything that defiles or distracts us, both within and without...

This, to me, is the definition of reverence.

This is the fear of the Lord.

May nothing distract us. May nothing stand in the way of our clear focus. Our true love. Our heart's desire. Our holy hope. Our perfect Redeemer.

My husband read this to me from Malachi the other day,

"Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the Lord Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it....Then those who feared the Lord talked with each other, and the Lord listened and heard. A scroll of remembrance was written in his presence concerning those who feared the Lord and honored his name."They will be mine," says the Lord Almighty, "in the day when I make up my treasured possession. I will spare them, just as in compassion a man spares his son who serves him. And you will again see the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between those who serve God and those who do not. "

It's got me thinking.

What do I have to give to God?

My time. My children. My skill. My holy yoga practice. My marriage. My home. My money. My work. My hope.

What would happen if I brought it all into the storehouse?

And what would convince me to bring it ALL?

"And you will again see the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between those who serve God and those who do not. "

What makes the righteous and the wicked different? What separates them?

Is it the fear of the Lord?

Because isn't fearing God really just about having a powerful hope that he is BIG enough, STRONG enough, WHOLE enough to be trustworthy?

Isn't fearing God really just a matter of putting everything I have into him and trusting that even more will be poured out again... more than I have room for?

I want to throw it all in. Every single tiny grain of my life.

And I want to trust that he will respond as he has every time I have been empty. With an overflowing response to my need.

Because the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. The fear of the Lord demands that we no longer care what other people think about us.

We have given everything to one storehouse. There is nothing of our own strength, skill, or desire to be found in us. It has been freely surrendered.

And we can wait with a never - disappointed hope for the floodgates to open.