(The following is an excerpt from Chapter 5 of The Space Between Us by Sarah B. Anderson)

Fear + Politics

In the past couple of years, fear has become the driving emotion, not just in our narratives of the world but in our experience within our own country, widening the already large spaces between us. It may seem amped up these days, but given my experience growing up, this is not the first-time politics and fear have been bedfellows.

For as long as I can remember, negative campaign ads have run not simply of policy disagreements, but on what fear of the other’s proposed policy might mean for your livelihood, safety, and rights. Ominous music plays in the background while a narrator’s voice tries to shock you with a particular candidate’s past voting history, government spending patterns, and as many fear inducing quotes as possible.

Politics thrives on the ability to pander to fears and get the voter at home wondering, “What if?”

What if…

• Our party loses control of the House, and Senate, and the executive branch, and the division of Supreme Court justices?
• This amendment is revoked?
• This Supreme Court ruling goes through?
• This Supreme Court ruling is reversed?
• This person wins?
• This person loses?
• This right is threatened?
• This right is resisted?

Sometimes the fear is a ploy, and other times, like in the case of the Courtney’s and their experience in the Middle East, the fear is real. And in the past couple of years, as the politics in our country has become far more divisive and the voices of the culture have become far louder, fear doesn’t seem like a ploy at all. It is a real player in the game. And that is what makes it such a tricky foe.

Sometimes fear wins by creating a false dread of something that will never come to pass.

And sometimes it wins because the very thing you were lying awake imagining might happen—fearing might happen—actually does.

A plane flies into the building.

A constitutional right is threatened.

A shooter gets into the school.

A family is deported.

A hooded black boy is killed.

A religious freedom is squelched.

These things happen. They have happened. And suddenly, fear is personal. It becomes far more real than it ever has been before. Fear isn’t simply something people over in a war-torn country a continent away are living with in their everyday reality. Fear is here. Fear is American.

More than that, if you are one particular race or another,

gender or another,

sexual orientation or another,

political persuasion or another,

religion or another,

fear can feel that much more prevalent.

Given some of our experiences, the stories we see on the news—the realities too many are facing too regularly—it would be totally understandable, even permissible, to let fear be the catalyst that pits us against one another.

After all, the hardest thing about addressing the political upheaval and the culture of fear in today’s political climate is that we are having to learn how to come to terms with fear that isn’t that outlandish at all, but in reality, is insistent, and consistent, and based on actual events, real injustices, and legitimate worries. The truth is, what is most feared is possible. It’s not improbable. And the question now is how to choose love and what that even looks like in light of real and pressing fear.

“Fear Not”

The command to “Fear not” appears 365 times in Scripture (and, having a personal propensity to fear, I’ve tried to memorize approximately 100% of those passages.) I have heard about a million talks and read a thousand books on the topic, all mentioning God’s desire for us to trust Him with the fear that plants stakes in our souls to pitch a tent in our present and project into our future. And I do believe God does want us to trust Him. I believe when He tells us to “Fear not,” He is desperate for us to see Him as powerful and loving, as capable and compassionate to handle our stubborn-as-a-weed fear. I believe that my fear is just as much about the thing I am fearful of as it is about the God I deem incapable of handling that fear.

When I read the passages of Scripture that have to do with fear, there’s the story of Hagar and her son, Ishmael, running away from her abusive mistress, Sarah, fearing for her life in the wilderness but fearing life with Abraham and Sarah even more. There, an angel appears and tells her to not be afraid. The cries of Hagar’s son, Ishmael, are heard, and she’s told to hold her son tight, for God has not abandoned her.

There’s the story of Joseph and his brothers, when his brothers learn that the identity of the man in Egypt who holds the power of life and death is actually the brother they sold into slavery years earlier. “Don’t be afraid,” Joseph tells them, and then he pardons them and forgives them.

There are the stories of the Israelites before they move to take the land promised them, when God speaks to Joshua, the leader following in the steps of Moses, and to the people of God. Joshua, feeling ill-equipped to lead and unprepared to take the land. I think of how he wondered how he even got in the position he was in, and God telling him, more than once, over, and over, and over, do not be afraid, do not be afraid, do not be afraid.

There’s King Saul, mad with jealousy and rage and out of his right mind trying to kill David, the one the prophet Samuel had anointed to follow Saul as the next king of Israel. And Jonathan, Saul’s son, like a brother to David, telling David not to be afraid though Saul was out to kill him. Jonathan would look out for him. His loyalty was to David, and he would help in making sure David inherited the throne.

There’s the story of the storm on the Sea of Galilee and the disciples’ terror that the waves will overcome them and the wind will overpower them. And Jesus appearing amid the falling rain and gusting winds, telling them to not be afraid. His was a power even the forces of nature would obey.

Here, again and again, are stories of circumstances inciting fear. Of the unfolding of events leading to terror and dread and distress. And rightfully so.

But when I read stories about Jeremy Courtney and the team of people doing work in the most dire circumstances and dangerous places and their insistence to offer hope, and love, and potential to all people in need there, I’ve started to wonder if the command from God to “Fear not” doesn’t only have something to do with the courage we try to muster up in adverse circumstances. I wonder, these days watching news channels and news networks that pander to our fear, that incite it, and feed it, and count on the public to consume it and react to it, if the command to “Fear not” has just as much to do with the way we see one another as it does the way we see the world.

Because there are also stories where the command to not fear shows up when people encounter a representation of God—in an angel or in a voice. When the person being addressed is confronted with a God so other from them, so unlike them, so different from what they may have expected or experienced up until then, that of course their inclination is to fear. They are confronted with this other being and entirely unsure of what to do next. And in those moments, to these people, God always leads with, “Fear not.” Their inclination is to fear this God they don’t fully understand. And yet, God’s asking them to lean into their engagement with Him, surrendering their fear of Him.

I think God knew the world we live in can be terrifying. He entered it after all, experiencing its terror first hand. And His experience here confirms how scary the world is, but maybe more than that, that the real danger is nearer than we think. That the more insidious fear isn’t in the danger “out there” in the circumstances beyond our control. The most dangerous fear is found in the way we perceive others, defined by their “otherness”—those we don’t understand, can’t comprehend, and feel incapable of truly knowing. What we can’t understand in people, we fear. And a fear of the “other” left unchecked and wild turns to rage, violence, and sometimes, as Jesus discovered, death.

Maybe God tells us to “Fear not,” not simply because He wants us to face external dangers with courage, but because He doesn’t want us to see our differences in each other—in our familiar selves compared to the unfamiliar other—as a reason to provoke terror. Because fear is as powerful a force as any pushing us to the margins, leaving gaping and growing space between us, allowing us to make caricatures of the other as a defense mechanism, justifying our fear and crippling our posture before one another.

I think God talked about fear as much as He did because He knew, left on its own, fear would turn us into people we would no longer recognize, doing things followers of God should not resort to. That the most powerful thing fear can do is not just erode our trust in what God can do or who God is. It’s not simply that it can erode our trust in a future hope we imagine unfolding a certain way. But equally tragic and equally debilitating, fear can erode our trust in our fellow humanity, pushing us to make scapegoats of whole people groups we can’t comprehend. Rather than try to understand, there is only silence instead.

Telling us to “fear not” was meant to save us from ourselves. It is an invitation to close the gap between us before so much distance grows it makes recovery seem impossible.

Because a life lived in submission to fear does more than just squash hope; it makes us aggressive toward others not like us. It makes us resistant to any kind of change the “other” initiates. It makes us complacent in the injustices around us and sends us on a witch hunt for wrong doers.

Fear breeds suspicion.

Fear breeds paranoia.

Fear breeds cowardice.

Fear breeds bullying.

Fear breeds a type of human we don’t want to be and we don’t want to know.

And we’re better than that.

Collectively, a country driven by fear breeds political ideologies on both ends of the political spectrum that lead to extremism, hate, paranoia, and a lack of self-awareness and self-regulation. Leading with fear in our relationships, in our conversations, in the way we engage the world and the way we engage the people around us cripples the future and stifles our ability to recognize the God-given divine image in each of us. We’re already well on our way to living in this sort of reality. But what if it wasn’t too late?

INFLUNSR. defines courage as choosing love over fear.

Fear is strongest when it is nebulous, undefined, and abstract. So, in an effort to get to the root, ask yourself: What are you afraid of? What exactly is the fear about? Consider the possibility that your fear is of a “who” and not just a what—fear of a particular group of people, fear of a certain race, religion, or ethnicity. As difficult as it might be, ask where that might come from. What about them is frightening to you? Ask what that fear is doing for you. How does it serve you? How is it hurting you and those around you? If your fear is a “what,” get specific. Is it a particular party coming into or staying in power? Is it a change in legislation? Is it a loss of control of the way things have always been? Is it concern for the future if your fears are realized?

With each answer you come up with, follow it with this question: “Okay, what if that happens? Then what?” Play it out. Talk it out. Walk through a worst-case scenario. Putting words around the largest fears we face lessens their power. That doesn’t make the thing we are afraid of less scary or less devastating, but it allows us to see a future beyond the thing we thought would be the end of us.

If a fear is realized, identify the emotions that follow. Are you sad? Angry? Frustrated? Exhausted? Feeling hopeless? Give yourself permission to name the feelings and accept them for what they are, being present in them no matter how uncomfortable they feel. Don’t skip ahead to give a happy ending. Be present in the fear now, so you can learn to be present in the faith later.

When it’s time to start recovering from the fear realized, remember that movement matters— physically, metaphorically, symbolically. What is one thing you can do to start making forward motion? How can you keep from dwelling in fear and staying stuck there? Maybe it’s something as simple as turning off the news and going for a walk, or vacuuming the floors, or reading a book. Anything. Decide what is one thing you’ll do next, and then do it. Don’t imagine next week, or next month, or next year. Imagine the next minute and then go there.

Finally, mobilize yourself. Take the emotion the fear has created and use it for good. Make conscious efforts to engage the people fear has kept you from. Become involved in a cause you are passionate about and want to see change in. Get a group of people together who share your interest or fear and channel it toward something helpful.

Journal your thoughts. We will revisit this in our Mentor Circle later this month…