Afraid of the dark

OK, I’ll admit it. I’m afraid of the dark. You’d think a grown man could shake it off, but when I turn off the light at the top of the stairs at night, something akin to low-grade panic sets in. It’s a good thing that there’s another light switch a few short steps away. Who knows what fearsome creatures could come out in the absence of light?

My case is relatively mild. I cope. While my circumstance is more rightly described as a phobia, there are some genuine fears, I believe, common to the lot of us in the human frame.

Take, for example, the fear associated with making a decision. I’m not talking about what to wear today. In my closet, that choice is somewhat limited anyway. Will I wear these blue pants or those blue pants?

But what about the decision to change some aspect of my behavior? Whenever I get my throat blessed on the feast of St. Blase and the priest asks me, “Will you turn away from sin and follow the Gospel?” my throat opens up right away for the gulp in it.

Sure, sure, I say yes; but what’s really going on is a qualified maybe. While part of my indecision is an awareness of fundamental incapacity, part of it is fear as well.

One of the most startlingly honest lines I’ve ever heard preached in a homily was: “Living the Christian life sometimes can be very boring.” As I struggle with the decision to live the Gospel, I fear boredom.

Sin, you know, can seem very exciting, indeed be very exciting, until dues day, remorse day, awareness of emptiness day, until the day when I realize I’ve been duped by the devil and feel weak and stupid.

Having sinned before, sometimes I am blessed with the recollection of payday before I do the deed again – so I back off. However, short of making any real commitment to fix the situation by a head-over-heels surrender to the Lord, I just kind of hang there afraid that becoming a down-home, broken-hearted Christian will be real boring.
I hang on to a few “pets.” Not that I actually plan to do this sinful thing again (Whew! Who needs the ag?), I do like tinkering with the exciting prospect once in a while.

I was told the story about a woman who had a problem with pornography. She’d go to the porno shop, then go to confession, then repeat the process over and over.
One day she was in a different town, New York City, and she popped in to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to go to confession. The priest asked her if she really wanted to do something about the thing she kept doing. She was in a bind, like me having my throat blessed. What could she say? She said yes.

“For your penance,” the priest told her, “fast and pray every day for a year.” Well, she did it. And from that day to this she hasn’t had the problem.

I’ve heard it said that the opposite of fear is not peace of mind, but love; because when we are in the presence of love there is no fear.

When a child gets afraid at night, he runs to his parents’ bed. Because why? Because there he will be in the presence of love. He may not be able to articulate that, but that’s what happens. With mom and dad, he is not afraid.

We often associate fear with big scary panics, but sometimes we are simply afraid we’ll be bored. However, if we run to our Father’s arms and become willing to do what He asks of us, like St. Paul says, eye has not seen nor ear heard, nor has it even occurred to us the reward which God has prepared for those who love Him.

written by Thomas A. Russell
first published in the Lafayette Sunday Visitor on September 21st, 1986