What is the opposite of fear? In order to grasp this, I think that a good place to start is fear itself. If someone says that he has not felt fear then a couple of things spring to mind. First, he has probably not really ever exerted himself. Or perhaps he has never lived. Or maybe, he has never really loved someone or given himself to a concept greater than himself. It seems that fear defines an end of a spectrum and so what is at the other end? Is fear avoidable? Or is it perhaps a benefit when appreciated for the ever clearer understanding of our own inner nature that it illuminates in the pale sickly light it coruscates in its afterglow.
As far as “regular” fear goes, I can tell you it comes in a disconcerting variety of shapes and sensations. A common, almost quotidian, kind of experience is a near miss high speed collision. That unpleasant twisting of the gut that reaches its highest tide after everything is over is one manifestation of fear that can only really express itself in the glow of the realization that in fact you are still alive. This fear springs from the delayed relief that our flesh has when it comes to grips with the fact that disaster was only a heart beat or two away.
But there are other more menacing sorts of dread that are not by their nature over in a flash. Many people are terrified of cancer or other illnesses that do not bring a sudden demise but rather linger on with pain and debilitation as their theme. I am often amazed at the contempt for the “weakness of the flesh” that I see in my patients when they first learn of a horrific diagnosis. Even more impressive is the awesome spectacle of those who have endured in the state that they find themselves and yet come in to the ED when things have gotten worse than they could have imagined and still have more concern for members of their family than for their own convenience. These are few and far between, and we all should look upon and learn from these lessons of selflessness.
To bring this to a more immediate application, I know that for years I had secretly dreaded the thought that I could get diabetes. I felt pretty safe because it was not prevalent in my family, but then one day I felt ill and then over the next 4-5 weeks lost 35 pounds. I thought that I had lymphoma or something. The fact that I was drinking a quart of liquid ever hour and peeing a quart and a half ever hour was lost on me. I think that I wanted it to be the lymphoma, so I could go relatively quickly… Anything but diabetes where your vessels grow stiff and don’t work and things get rotten and fall off. To make the matter even funnier, I was forty-one and ended up getting type 1 diabetes-the type little kids get. I soon realized that it would be years before I had to go to the ED to get my gangrenous feet chopped. In the meantime, I am certain that God has many more important things for me to worry about. Different fights to be fought. It was then that I had a very visceral lesson encouraging me to emulate all of those people who have overcome their fear and learned to deal with and even overcome the debilitating nagging thoughts that illness can produce.
Combat is a more immediate producer of fear. The dread it produces derives from at least two sources. The first is concern over the potential immediate disruption of the flesh. The second is driven by the worry of acting the coward. In order to demonstrate bravery something need occur. Action is that something. By action one should understand either a direct act which is relatively easy; or more often a stand against evil that is often lonely and stark. Combat is a place where the “ach! in meiner brust” reveals to each his own weakness and usually at the expense of those whom we call close. When our flesh knows that sudden painful disruption is a moment away, then we must persist with disdain over that inner desire to thrive and look with insight at the larger portrait. Many better than I have described the reality that warriors fight for their brothers when death is at its closest.
One way of preparing to deal with this is to develop good habits, ie. training. To entrain the body, mind, will and emotions is a way to preempt the un-gluing of the hams, that when it occurs in the heat of battle, is the summit of weakness. By the way, when this occurs after the fight is over, it is both universal and natural. Thus, it is a matter of timing with regards to outward manifestations of our flesh. After all, there are always some who end up mangled and dead.
Often, these are the lucky ones. My older sons are now at that point in their lives where they will place themselves in harms’ way. As a warrior, I cringe at the thought of them submitting to those things that I would have rejoiced in seeing and doing. But I am glad that men such as these will do what so many avoid and so few embrace. As a father, I am proud; but worry about all of the unseen things that can happen. This is where a faith in something greater than oneself is crucial. I recently asked my oldest son his thoughts about fear and his answer is great: “Fear is both a teacher and a warning.” “We learn more from our failures and we are warned when fear grips our chest and propels us along the right path.” Small hurts and lessons will guide us to point where we long to be. 
So that when things are at their worst, we will be at our best.
Jeff
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