Morphing Fear: Addicted to My Own Kind of Morphine

"I think I'll get outta here

Where I can run just as fast as I can

To the middle of nowhere

To the middle of my frustrated fears

And I swear, you're just like a pill

Instead of makin' me better, you keep makin' me ill."

-Pink, Just Like a Pill

This week, my grandfather fell and fractured his back. Surgery got delayed as new complications arose, so for the past week, I've sat with him in the early hours of the morning and grieved over the pain I see on his face. Between the hours of 10PM-1AM, he is relatively calm and will allow me to hold his hand and tell him I love him to calm his fears. But from 1AM-4AM, I know his pain medication is wearing off because he throws off the covers, strains against the blinding pain in his back to sit up, and grips my hand uncomfortably tight in frustration when I try to calm him. And sometimes, like when he tries to pull out his feeding tube or IV, I have to grip his hand a little tighter and say, "No" while he tries to bat my hand away. From there, I push the "Call Nurse" button, and she comes in with her little syringe, and in goes the morphine. Within minutes, he is calm again and sleeping. No more pain for just a little while.

I used to live my life with an "everything will all work out" attitude. It used to make my practical husband crazy. This is because he lives in the real world, and I lived in a bubble. That bubble was fun. There are rainbows and ponies there. And lots of candy. But after twenty-eight years, I was no longer able to keep the bubble... or the candy. This year, I lost a baby and my grandmother in the same week. And from there, I subtly began to grow in fear as I saw the harsh realities and unpredictabilities of a fallen world. I feared accidentally burning my house down or leaving a child in a hot car. I feared overpasses collapsing or 18-wheelers flattening me in my car. If John came home late, I feared he had been in an accident. Fear stole my fervor and creativity, replacing my drive with doubt. It swarmed in like locusts to a field and ate at every good, beautiful, lovely thing I thought I had. I claimed God's sovereignty, but simultaneously harbored my fears like a child protects a favorite toy. 

I know these fears are neurotic and irrational, but underneath it all, they still remain. They simmer, making me grow restless and agitated like my grandfather. And I've somehow convinced myself that more fear is the way to control or manage these problems. It has become my morphine. If I just worry about it enough and stay aware, maybe it won't happen. 

But morphine has side effects. I know this because Pink taught me in her little song, 

I can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch

I can't stay on your morphine, 'cuz it's makin' me itch ("Just Like a Pill.")

Depending on your age, you may remember blaring it in your car after a bad break-up, but it has become a bit of an anthem for me about my relationship with fear. 

I get a little aware of the realities of life, and I run to my fear morphine. But as I watch fear also manifest itself in my people-pleasing (What if I fail? What if it's terrible? What will people think or say?) or I allow fear into my life in the form of seeking control (Let me handle this. I can do it myself. If I can get this just right.), I see all the ways in which it has robbed me from honoring God, developing strong relationships, taking chances, and even listening for the heart of God in finding direction, creativity, or purpose. It has started making me itch. 

I was telling this to John the other day, about how I hated how much fear had played a negative role in my life, and he reminded me of the story of Joshua and the spies. Consider how God responded to the Israelites when they gave into fear after the spies came back with a report about the Promised Land. They had seen God do miracles for them, and yet, because of their fear, they would never see the land that God had already said he was giving them (Num. 13:2).

Would that we had died in the land of Egypt! [...] Why is the Lord bringing us into this land, to fall by the sword? Our wives and our little ones will become prey. (Num. 14:2-3)

Do you hear the fear? Now consider God's response to that fear. 

And the Lord said to Moses, "How long will this people despise me? And how long will they not believe in me, in spite of all the signs I have done among them? I will strike them with pestilence and disinherit them, and I will make of you a nation greater and mightier than they."

Fear is a dangerous, deceptive, under-rated sin, and God is not always so kind and understanding about it. Sometimes, he is a kind Father who re-adjusts our pillows, holds our hand, and whispers the promises of, "My peace I leave to you." But other times, he recognizes that we are drug addicts who would rather have our fear than his presence, and it is a scary reality with severe consequences. Here, he grips our hand uncomfortably tight and says, "No" as we try to pull out our life-giving IVs or oxygen tubes. In these instances, we need this strong grab of the hand and a firm word. And it is the most gracious thing he could do. 

So, as God works in me to overcome my fear with his grace, may I recognize my own voice in the Israelites' disbelief and find my own fear morphed into peace as I cling to his promises of the kingdom here now and to come. To do this, I need both a loving Jesus with pierced hands and a gentle touch, and physician Jesus who will cut bone from marrow for his glory and my good. 

Praising Jesus for being all I'll ever need,

Stefanie