I'M NO LONGER A SLAVE TO FEAR...

As I was perusing through Facebook this morning, my Timehop popped up on my screen. Now, I had never seen "my" Timehop before, and often wondered how people did it, but it wasn't of enough interest to me to find out. So I was kind of surprised to see it all of a sudden. But what really caught my eye was the date, March 27. Ahhhh yes, it's March 27. That's a date that is forever etched in my memory. A little while later an excerpt from a song I had played from a post by Brian Johnson continued to play on repeat in my head. That's when it dawned on me. "I'm no longer a slave to fear..." it's March 27th. It was then I began to suspect God is saying something to me this morning.

I won't elaborate on the details, but it was exactly six years ago this very moment, on a Friday, that I was painfully (literally) sitting in a local emergency room waiting to be seen. To add a bit of trivia, it's the first time since that date that it's fallen on a Friday. Which just brought to mind another memorable phrase, "It's Friday but Sunday's Coming".

Long story short, I left the hospital seven days later minus one gallbladder, but with newly acquired diagnoses of Pancreatitis and Type II Diabetes. I didn't return to work for seven weeks, spending most of my time sitting in a recliner regaining my strength.

But here's the important stuff about that day - about that journey. I entered the hospital aware that people would have to look inside of me. I had been fearful for about 30 years for that to happen. I didn't want anyone to look inside of me for fear of what they might find - I was sure I had some dreaded terminal disease and if no one looked it wouldn't be there. Sounds rational, huh? But on this day, the pain was too unbearable for me to do anything else. I was aware of what I was doing, but I wasn't afraid. Over the next days, weeks, and months as I took further risks having invasive well-check procedures done to lots of body parts, I was aware but I wasn't afraid.

Exactly seven months to the day after that dreadful yet glorious morning, I boarded an airplane with my husband and flew to Indianapolis. This was the first time I had flown in about 12 years. Fear. But I knew if Papa God could free me from fear of being looked at internally, he could certainly take care of this. I still remember the three little angels outside the window as we became airborne, clapping their hands and almost giggling they were so happy.

So as I sit here this morning, about to embark upon the seventh year of this freedom, I'm aware of new fears, disappointments, uncertainties, insecurities that have crept into my world. That may be keep me from my destiny. You see, I didn't mention earlier something that walked into that hospital with me and walked out with me, and sat in the recliner with me... It was LOVE. Ginormous, tangible love. It was such amazing, overwhelming love that I knew its origin had to be from my Papa. I have to admit, I've allowed that ginormous love to wane over time - and I don't like that.

Holy Spirit said something to me yesterday as I was just casually chatting to him while walking through my kitchen. I think I said something like, "Maybe I want too much love." I barely got the thought out of my head and he said, "There's no such thing as too much love."

So I'm going to take risks. I'm going to love extravagantly. It's kind of scary, because, well sometimes we don't get loved back extravagantly. I'm not really sure I can do it. But it's a risk that I must take, a risk that maybe Holy Spirit is telling me to take. Because the fear is not part of love.  (II Timothy 1:7, I John 4:18)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uth38v0cm30