Courage

Courage

But don’t be afraid of those who threaten you. For the time is coming when everything that is covered will be revealed, and all that is secret will be made known to all. What I tell you now in the darkness, shout abroad when daybreak comes. What I whisper in your ear, shout from the housetops for all to hear! Don’t be afraid of those who want to kill your body; they cannot touch your soul. Fear only God, who can destroy both soul and body in hell. What is the price of two sparrows — one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows. (Matt. 10:26-31)

He was a professional thief. His name struck fear in the hearts of men and women, alike. He terrorized the Wells Fargo stage line for thirteen years, roaring like a tornado in and out of the Sierra Nevada hillsides. In journals from San Francisco to New York, his name became synonymous with the dangers of the Great Frontier. During his reign of terror between 1875 and 1883, he is credited with stealing the breath and bags away from twenty-eight different stagecoach crews. And he did it all without firing a single shot. His weapon was his reputation. His ammunition was intimidation.

A flower sack, with holes cut out for the eyes, hid his face. No victim ever saw him. No artist ever sketched his features. No sheriff could ever track his trail. He never fired a shot or took a hostage. He didn’t have to. His presence was enough to paralyze. Black Bart. A hooded bandit armed with a deadly weapon.

Reminds me of another thief. We’ve never seen his face, and we couldn’t describe his voice, or sketch his profile. But when he’s near, we know it immediately. Because if you’ve ever been in the hospital, you’ve felt the leathery brush of his hand against yours. If you’ve ever sensed someone was following you, you’ve felt his cold breath breathing down your neck. If you’ve awakened late at night in a strange room, it was his husky whisper that stole your sleep. You know him.

It was this thief who left your palms sweaty as you went in for that job interview. It was this con man who convinced you to swap your integrity for popularity. And it was this scoundrel who whispered in your ear as you left the cemetery, “You may be next.” He’s the Black Bart of the soul. The thing is, he doesn’t want your money, or your diamonds, or your car. He wants something a lot more precious. He wants your peace of mind — your joy. His name? Fear.

His job is to take your courage and leave you a timid and trembling wreck. His modus operandi is to manipulate you with the mysterious, to taunt you with the unknown. Fear of death; fear of failure; fear of God; fear of tomorrow — his arsenal is enormous. And his goal? To create cowardly, joyless souls. He doesn’t want you to make the journey to the mountain. He figures that if he can rattle you enough, you’ll take your eyes off the peaks and settle for a dull existence in the prairies.

A legend from India describes a mouse who was terrified of cats until a magician agreed to transform him into a cat. That resolved his fear . . . until he met a dog. So, the magician changed him into a dog. And the mouse-turned-cat-turned-dog was content until he met a tiger — so, once again, the magician changed him into what he feared. But when the tiger came complaining that he’d met a hunter, the magician refused to help. “I’m going to make you into a mouse again, because you may have the body of a tiger, but you still have the heart of a mouse.”

Sound familiar? How many people do you know who’ve built a formidable exterior, only to tremble inside with fear? We tackle our anxieties by taking on the appearance of a tiger. We face our fears with force: military power, security systems, defense strategies — all reflect a conviction that muscle creates security. Or, if we don’t use force we try other methods. We stockpile wealth. We seek security in stuff. We cultivate fame and pursue popularity. But can power, possessions, or popularity ever really deliver us from our fears?

If power could, then Joseph Stalin should have been fearless. Instead, this infamous Russian dictator was afraid to go to bed. He had seven different bedrooms, and each could be locked as tightly as a safe. In order to foil any would-be assassin, he slept in a different bedroom each night. Five chauffeur-driven limousines transported him wherever he went, each with curtains closed so no one would know which car actually contained Stalin. In fact, so deep-seated were his apprehensions that he employed a servant whose sole responsibility was to monitor and protect his . . . tea bags.

And if possessions could conquer fear, the late billionaire Howard Hughes would have been fearless. But you probably know his story. His distrust of people and paranoia of germs led the billionaire to Mexico, where he died a lonely death as a cadaverous hermit with a belt-length beard and corkscrew fingernails.

Okay, but what about popularity? John Lennon’s fame as a singer, songwriter, and pop icon made him a household word. But his fears only brought him misery. His biographers describe him as a frightened man, unwilling to sleep with the lights off, and afraid to touch anything because of its filth.

Granted, Stalin, Hughes, and Lennon are extreme cases. But they’re indicative. “Though you have the body of a tiger, you still have the heart of a mouse.” Courage is an outgrowth of who we are. Exterior supports may temporarily sustain, but only inward character creates courage. And it’s those inward convictions that Jesus was building in the Beatitudes. Matthew 5 is not a list of proverbs, or a compilation of independent sayings. It is, instead, a step-by-step description of how God rebuilds the believer’s heart.

The first step is to ask for help — to become “poor in spirit” – by admitting our need for a Savior. The next step is sorrow: “Blessed are those who mourn . . . .” Those who mourn are those who know they’re wrong and say they’re sorry. No excuses. No justification. Just tears. The first two steps are an admission of inadequacy and repentance from pride. The next step is one of renewal: “Blessed are the meek . . . .” Realization of weakness leads to the source of strength — God. And renewal comes when we become meek — when we give our lives to God to be his tool. The first two beatitudes pass us through the fire of purification; the third places us in the hands of the Master. The result of this process? Courage: “. . . they shall inherit the earth.” No longer shall the earth and its fears dominate us, for we follow the one who dominates the earth.

Could you use some courage? Are you backing down more than you’re standing up? If so, let the Master lead you up the mountain again. Let him remind you why you should “fear not.” Listen to the time Jesus scattered the butterflies out of the stomachs of his nervous disciples and see if his words help you. (Matt. 10:1-28)

We need to remember that the disciples were common men given a compelling task. Before they were the stained-glassed saints in the windows of cathedrals, they were somebody’s next-door-neighbor trying to make a buck and raise a family. They weren’t cut from theological cloth or raised on supernatural milk. But they were an ounce more devoted than they were afraid, and did some extraordinary things.

They would have done nothing, however, had they not learned to face their fears. Jesus knew that. That is why he spoke his words of courage.

So, here’s the picture. The disciples are being sent out on their own. For a limited time they will go into the cities and do what Jesus has done — but without Jesus. Jesus assembles them to give them their final instructions. And maybe the disciples look a little nervous. They have reason to be nervous. What Jesus tells them would quicken the pulse rate of the best athlete’s heart.

First, Jesus tells them not to take any extra money or extra clothing on their journey. (“No money? No second outfit?”) Then he assures them that they are being sent out “like sheep among wolves.” (“Uh, what do you mean, Jesus?”) And his answer is not very reassuring. He tells them they will be taken before the authorities, (uh-oh), flogged, (ahhhhhhh), and arrested (groan). And it gets worse.

Jesus goes on to describe the impact their mission will have on people: “Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child; children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. All men will hate you because of me, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved.” (Matt. 10:21-22) At this point, I’m thinking that some eyes duck. Some eyes widen. Someone swallows. Feet shift. A brow is wiped. And though no one says it, you just know someone is thinking, “Is it too late to get out of this?”

And that’s the setting for Jesus’ paragraph on courage. Three times in five verses (Matt. 10:26-31) he says, “Do not be afraid.” Read the words and see his call and cause for courage. See the reason you should sleep well tonight: “So do not be afraid of them. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.” (Matt. 10:26)

On the surface, those words would seem like a reason for panic rather than a source of peace. I mean, who of us would like to have our secret thoughts made public? Who would want our private sins published? Who would get excited over the idea that every wrong deed we’ve ever done will be announced to everyone? You’re right, no one would. But we’re told over and over that such a thing will happen:

Nothing in all creation is hidden from God. Everything is naked and exposed before his eyes, and he is the one to whom we are accountable. (Heb. 4:13); He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, though he is surrounded by light. (Dan 2:22); But I tell you this, you must give an account on judgment day for every idle word you speak. (Matt. 12:36) You spread out our sins before you – our secret sins – and you see them all. He will bring our darkest secrets to light and will reveal our private motives. (Ps. 90:8, 1 Cor. 4:5)

To think of the disclosure of my hidden heart conjures up shame, humiliation and embarrassment. There are things I’ve done that very few know about. There are thoughts I’ve thought that I wouldn’t want revealed. So why does Jesus point to the day of revelation as a reason for courage? How can we take strength in what should be a moment of abject anguish? The answer is found in Romans 2:16. And you can let out a sigh of relief as you underline the last three words of the verse: “This will take place on the day when God will judge men’s secrets through Jesus Christ.”

Did you see that? Jesus is the screen through which God looks when he judges our sins. Now read another chorus of verses and focus on their promise:

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. [God] justifies those who have faith in Jesus. (Rom. 8:1, 3:26) Through him everyone who believes is justified from everything. (Acts 13:39) For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more. (Heb. 8:12) For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. (Col. 3:3)

If you are in Christ, these promises are not only a source of joy but they’re the foundation of true courage. You are guaranteed that your sins will be filtered through, hidden in, and screened out by the sacrifice of Jesus. In other words, when God looks at you, he doesn’t see you; he sees the One who hides you. That means that failure is not a concern for you. Your victory is secure. So how could you not be courageous?

Picture it this way. Imagine that you’re an ice skater in Olympic competition. You’re in first place with one more round to go. If you perform well, the gold medal is yours. You’re nervous, anxious and frightened. Then, only minutes before your performance, your coach rushes up to you with the thrilling news: “You’ve already won! The judges tabulated the scores, and the person in second place can’t catch you. You’re too far ahead.”

If you heard that news, how would you feel? Exhilarated! And how would you skate? Timidly? Cautiously? Of course not. How about courageously and confidently? You bet you would. You’d do your best because the prize is already yours. You’d skate like a champion because that’s what you are! You’d hear the applause of victory. Hence, these words from Hebrews: “Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus . . . let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith.” (Heb. 10:19, 22)

The point is this: the truth will triumph. The Father of truth will win, and the followers of truth will be saved. As a result, Jesus says, don’t be afraid: “What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” (Matt. 10:27-28) In the big picture, earthly fears are no fears at all because all the mystery has been revealed. The final destination is guaranteed. Answer the big question of eternity, and the little questions of life fall into perspective.

By the way, remember Black Bart? As it turns out, he wasn’t anything to be afraid of either. When the hood came off, there was nothing to fear. When the authorities finally tracked him down, they didn’t find a bloodthirsty bandit from Death Valley; just a mild-mannered druggist from Decatur, Illinois. The man the papers pictured storming through the mountains on horseback was, in reality, so afraid of horses he rode to and from his robberies in a buggy, and then robbed the stagecoaches on foot. He was Charles E. Boles — the bandit who never once fired a shot, because he never once loaded his gun.

Any false hoods in your world?

Grace,

Randy