I'm Just Trying to Feed the Right Wolf

On Saturday, I was sitting on my bed with my son who is 13 years old. He asked me, “Mom, are you afraid that ISIS could come to America and do something like they did in Paris.” It wasn’t a surprising question given the events of the previous day, but the answer I heard come out of my mouth surprised me a great deal.

“Well, I think we do a pretty good job of protecting our borders – especially since 9/11.” I used the example of my friend’s Canadian husband who, despite being a law-abiding citizen, legally married to my friend for ELEVEN years, has been denied entry into the U.S. for the last 8 months for no legitimate reason I can discern. If they won’t let really benign white Canadian in the country, we probably look really closely at people of color – any color – who try to get it. I went on, “They would need a lot of financing too and the US has mechanisms for monitoring large influxes of money that flow into the U.S. from foreign countries,” and I continued for a few moments detailing the security in our country.

And then I stopped. 

Because I realized that I had not answered his question, “Mom, are you afraid?”

I always try to tell my kids the truth about the important stuff. Sex, drugs, relationships, death, illness…lies will only get me into trouble and the truth can always be made age-appropriate. My general rule is to not over answer. I aim to give them only the information they are asking for.

But this question was LOADED. Am I afraid? Yes, son, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what people might be planning that could cause you harm in your school, in our church, at a concert, as we dine in a restaurant. But honestly, there have been reasons to fear those things since long before Paris – and not from “outsiders” or “invaders”. Hell, I almost got hit by a woman in the Walgreen’s parking lot yesterday as she careened around a corner while she was texting. The world is dangerous and I always carry a little fear with me about what a risk it is just to be alive in it. These were my thoughts.

What I said was, “You know what? I am a little scared that there are people out there who want to hurt us. And I know that no matter how secure we think everything is, there is always a chance that someone could get through. But you know what I’m more afraid of?”

“What?” he asked.

“I’m more afraid of what life would be like…what would happen to my soul…if I let fear guide all of my actions.” He nodded, but I know a 13-year-old can’t fully comprehend that.

So we were silent for a few moments and I continued to scratch his back. He will have to process that. And as with all of the hard realities that go with growing into an adult human, he will have to fashion his own path with regard to the role fear with play in his life. His experience will be different and so his choices will be too.

While we were sitting there in silence, something made me think of this story from the Cherokee Tribe and so I looked it up and I read it to him:

ONE EVENING, AN ELDERLY
CHEROKEE BRAVE TOLD HIS
GRANDSON ABOUT A BATTLE THAT
GOES ON INSIDE PEOPLE.

HE SAID "MY SON, THE BATTLE IS
BETWEEN TWO 'WOLVES' INSIDE US ALL.
ONE IS EVIL. IT IS ANGER,
ENVY, JEALOUSY, SORROW,
REGRET, GREED, ARROGANCE,
SELF-PITY, GUILT, RESENTMENT,
INFERIORITY, LIES, FALSE PRIDE,
SUPERIORITY, AND EGO.

THE OTHER IS GOOD.
IT IS JOY, PEACE, LOVE, HOPE, SERENITY,
HUMILITY, KINDNESS, BENEVOLENCE,
EMPATHY, GENEROSITY,
TRUTH, COMPASSION AND FAITH."

THE GRANDSON THOUGH ABOUT
IT FOR A MINUTE AND THEN ASKED
HIS GRANDFATHER:

"WHICH WOLF WINS?"

THE OLD CHEROKEE SIMPLY REPLIED,
"THE ONE THAT YOU FEED"

Those qualities of the evil wolf…those are the branches that grow from a seed of fear that is fed. I have spent my entire life trying NOT to feed that seed. This is what I wrote about fear in 2011 as part of my faith statement before the session at my church:

Each day, my journey seems to focus on different things but if I’m being honest, mostly I battle fear.  Sometimes it’s fear of not finding my vocation or worse that THIS is my vocation and it doesn’t fit my idea of who I want to be.  I worry that the people I care about don’t want to be around me and I worry that the people I don’t want to be around won’t leave me alone.  I worry about not doing enough or doing too much – shall I be Mary or Martha?  I worry that I won’t listen enough or that I’ll say too much.  But my greatest fear, by far, is sadness and pain and the things that I’ve convinced myself will CAUSE sadness and pain.  Experience tells me that the easiest way to find true light is to [first] embrace complete darkness, because in my past those are the times that I’ve been weak-willed enough to allow true light to punch a tiny hole on which I can focus.  And then, if I try REALLY hard, I can focus on that light.  Once I do, it stamps out the darkness with authentic light as opposed to the artificial light of bright, shiny things which distract me. That’s when God changes me. 

Being a Christian, as I understand it, is HARD.  It’s not just a set of behaviors and creeds, it’s striving to be like Christ – a guy who was killed by His church AND His state, not so that we wouldn’t die, but because He was showing us how to live.  And I’ve already told you I’m afraid of pain, so you KNOW I’m afraid of following an example that doesn’t promise safety and security – in fact, it pretty clearly ensures the opposite.  Give away all your money, be willing to hate your family and friends, love your enemies forgive everyone as God forgave you, take up your cross, and then, don’t worry, trust God, AND be not afraid.

Two things can happen when you embrace darkness, either you allow fear to grow there, or you look around for the light and when you find it…or it finds you…it begins to feed your faith. It’s a risky place to be…in the darkness. We are there right now as we sit in uncertainty. What should our military response be? How should we increase our security? What should our humanitarian response be?

Where is the light?

Anytime I read those paragraphs from my faith statement, I don’t remember writing them. I certainly can’t believe that I stood up in room full of people and read anything like that and I certainly can’t imagine what is possessing me to share it here on the Internet now. The only answer I have is that doing the scary thing…the dangerous thing…can be the right thing.

Like welcoming the stranger, and in particular, Syrian refugees. I’ve heard all the arguments…the fears…that dominate the conversation. And I do understand them. I just don’t want to feed them – not in myself. It’s not easy, I have to make conscious decisions not to act out of fear. With every decision I must attempt to feed the other seed – the one from which these things grow:

JOY, PEACE, LOVE, HOPE, SERENITY,
HUMILITY, KINDNESS, BENEVOLENCE,
EMPATHY, GENEROSITY,
TRUTH, COMPASSION, AND FAITH

As vivid as the picture is in my head of those terrified concert-goers at the Bataclan Theatre in Paris, just as vivid are the photos of Syrian refugees – men, women, and children (not just men as many would have you believe) – who have fled their homes – not because they are looking for a free hand out in Europe or in the States, but because if they stayed in Syria, their choices were:

• Fight for Assad (you know, the guy who uses chemical weapons on his own people?)
• Fight for ISIS

     or

• Die – right after you watch your wife be taken as a concubine and your children sold into slavery.

Having never been faced with a decision such as this, I don’t feel like I’m in much of a position to judge those who decided to leave. And as far as letting them come to the U.S., I have this to say:

As strong as my instinct may be to just hold on to what I’ve got (primarily a safe home, clothes, a warm bed, and plenty of food to eat) and try not to let people take it from me, I know that instinct is just another branch growing from the seed of fear. I believe everything that’s mine was actually given to me -- entrusted to me -- and it’s not mine to bury in the ground or behind a wall. I’ve been commanded to multiply and share with others.These gifts are innumerable, they are undeserved, and there is no way I can begin to adequately reciprocate.The only thing left for me is to do is show gratitude and the best way to do this is through hospitality.

We welcome the stranger – along with the risk – and we say to the fear, go away.

"Mom, are you afraid?" 

Yes, son, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of letting fear win. Because fear and its branches shackle us. Fear and freedom cannot coexist. 

We can find space here – in our cities and in our hearts. We can find room in the inn. We just have to look for the light and let it find us. And we have to stop feeding the evil wolf.