Fear and love are the warp and woof of the universe; opposites—both physiologically and spiritually. Neither can be fully alive in the presence of the other; emotional oil and water. 

I learned some of this from two encounters with snakes. 

Have you ever met a snake—so close you could see the black in its eyes? 

A few years ago I was wading in the river that ran behind our house. As I stepped into a deeper area and was feeling for the bottom, I looked up and saw a snake swimming through the water, heading directly toward me. 

Instantly, my physiology changed. My heart began to beat faster, my breathing became shallow, and my muscles tensed for action. My brain was working over time, too. 

I splashed out of the hole in the river, heels first, shouted something threatening at the snake, like “Remember Eden!” and found my way to the bank and out of the water. 

I don’ t like snakes—especially if I’m on their home court. 

Fortunately, while God is knitting a person together in the womb, he builds into the fabric a mechanism to help when facing snakes and other threats. It’s called the “fight-or-flight response” of the sympathetic nervous system, the part of our nervous system that is “sympathetic” to overcoming the threat—either by (a) fighting it or (b) fleeing from it. 

When that mechanism gets activated—be it by a snake, tiger, or letter from the IRS—several things hap pen to the body: increased heart rate; rapid, shallow breathing; dilation of the pupils (for better vision); flow of blood from the extremities (you don’t need it where you might get cut or bit) to the large muscles (you do need it in parts that need to run or fight); etc. This is exactly the opposite of what happens when you are relaxing, loving, or laughing. That’s when the parasym-pathetic nervous system is up and humming. 

For most of us today, it is rare, though, that the problem that flips our sympathetic switch is a tangible snake or tiger. Most often what frightens us are ephemeral monsters—threats to our need to feel significant, important, valued, and loved; threats to our desire to be the center of the universe. For ·example: we are passed over for a promotion, feel taken for granted by our spouse, or a child no longer comes to us for advice. When these fears arise within us, we may flee to the shallow surface of our lives instead of descending to the center, where we will find security and the comforting arms of God. 

Fear can make us forget our true identity as an image, likeness, and child of God. I have lived too much of my life with an undesired level of fear. And I have often clung to solutions that are not God, false securities that have kept me from the relaxed experience of God. When God told Moses to throw down his rod—a symbol of personal power and sufficiency—it was because he wanted to reveal its true nature. Trusting anything more than God turns it into a serpent. 

The second snake I was referring to is described in the Creation accounts of Genesis. Once that serpent planted a seed of worry, it was easy to cause Adam and Eve to grasp at God substitutes and eat from the tree of self-deification, to be in the know, in control. Their shame over their disobedience caused them to hide, to move away from God’s presence and from relationship with him. 

Grasping and then hiding are just variations of the same theme—fighting or fleeing, assault or withdrawal. Two thousand years ago, Jesus encountered four prominent groups of people who handled the anxiety of that time in some combination of these classic patterns. 

• In response to injustice of the Roman occupation, the Zealots chose to fight back, to rebel and practice forms of terrorism. They wanted to turn it around and impose their will on Rome by might. 
• The Essenes fled; they escaped to the desert, choosing to flee and isolate themselves from the Romans. 
• The Pharisees fought, but in a different sort of way. They imposed a form of aggressive religions perfectionism on themselves and others and condemned those who did not meet their high standards, withdrawing from the imperfect. 
• The Herodians or Sadducees fled to the side of their oppressors, deciding to collaborate with the oppressor, and enjoyed privileged positions and limited power in exchange for compromising any desire for total freedom. 

In these four responses we see classic variations of the fight-or-flight response and can gain insight into how we may be tempted to handle fear and anxiety. What was needed then is needed today—a fifth alternative, a creative alternative, a with-God alternative. 

Fear, I believe, fuels our false self and prompts a readiness to fight or flee, to grab or to hide, assault or withdraw; love propels our truest self, and prompts and prepares us to relax, approach, hold loosely, and to be found. 

One antidote to fear is almost too simple, too obvious, to believe. We step out from behind the veil that separates us from awareness of God’s presence. We come out of hiding as we begin to experience God’s intention and true nature. Could it be that there is no bottom to his love, no boundary to his acceptance? Soaking in the awareness, the experience of divine love, is the solution to our fear response. Fear is cast out by perfect love. It has no choice. The two are physiological opposites. 

In this issue of Conversations, which is built around the theme, “Be Not Afraid,” you will hear from a variety of voices offering help in finding a tranquil spirituality for daily living. In our Transformational Theology section, Jan Johnson beautifully reminds us that the most frequent command in the Bible is “Be not afraid.” Then you will hear form noted psychologist and researcher Archibald Hart, as he discusses the topic of anxiety in our digital age-and what to do about it. 

Then as you continue turning the pages you’ll be inspired by the real-life stories of others who have faced fear in the midst of financial crisis (Alison Seiwert), and medical crisis (Gary Black telling the story of Deiter Zander’s “Stroke of Grace”); and then you will get advice from Jane Rubietta concerning how to play hooky from workaholism, and learn from Amy Simpson that worry cannot be overcome by willpower. 

In our Intentionality of the Heart section, Anne Grizzle discusses using fear to grow courage, and Sarah Bessey offers insights from her year of being intentional about living for 365 days without fear. Then we conclude the issue with articles from Keith Matthews on how the curiosity culture may too easily blur the vice with the virtue of being curious, and from Rebekah Lyons on how panic attacks and surrender can lead to deeper meaning in life. You will also find, of course, reflections from our excellent feature writers, including a continuation of our recent and very popular column on formation and the family, “As for Me and My House.” 

May you find love bubbling up and pushing aside fear as you turn the pages of this issue.