​My youngest has always been allergic to peanuts. A few Zyrtec and Kleenex won’t take care of his problem. Peanut allergies are life threatening. We’ve cleared our home of anything remotely resembling a nut. We’ve become experts at reading ingredient labels. We bake our own treats for parties and celebrations to ensure his safety. Epipens are stashed in every car, purse, backpack and cupboard of our house.

​This summer Maguire had his annual allergist appointment. The doc did a skin test to check the status of his allergy and…there was no reaction. Zero. Next came a blood test to confirm the findings of the skin test. The results…negative. No peanut allergy? What? There was still one more test. Dun, dun dun…The Peanut Challenge, which basically consists of eating peanut butter for two hours in the doctor’s office while they monitor you. If something goes wrong, the doctor has the antidote to rescue you. If all goes well, you’re officially deemed no longer allergic. That day Maguire ate spoonfuls of Jif, and he was completely fine.
 
It was incredible. Life changing. Freeing! Maguire was thrilled he could now eat Reese’s and go out for ice cream without having to ask the worker for a clean scoop to ensure no nutty remnants from another flavor touched his vanilla. We were thrilled our son was safer in those situations. But despite all of the joy, gratefulness, and freedom, it was oddly hard to accept. Maguire has always been allergic to peanuts. How could he just start eating them now? How was it possible that Maguire was instantly free? He hadn’t taken a class, eaten pounds of spinach, or stood on his head to remove his allergy. It just vanished. 

The same is true in our relationship with Christ. We don’t have to do anything, eat anything, turn around three times or pray a set number of minutes each day. Just by accepting that Jesus died for us, cleans our slates. We are no longer soiled by our recent or long gone past. We are not condemned by our mistakes, strangled by our fears or chained to our worries. I know that. Just like I know Maguire has outgrown his allergy. But how often do I question the freedom Christ offers? 

When the school office called asking where Maguire’s Epipen was, I answered hesitantly, heat pounding, “He doesn’t need one any more.” Was he safe? I knew he was, and yet…
I put a note in his lunch and saw a peanut butter sandwich nestled inside. It freaked me out. I’ll have to sanitize his lunch box. No, I don’t. Because peanuts can’t hurt him any more. And we are also safe. Free. Loved. We don’t need backup medication or extra special sanitation.
 
Jesus says, “I love you. Just how you are.”
 
And I believe Him. Most of the time. Yet some days, I feel the need to prove myself—to God, to the world, to my family. I don’t want to let others down. I don’t want to let God down. I don’t want to let down my guard. Because I want to be a good wife and mama. I want to tell great stories. I want to be the kind of person Jesus wants me to be. Which are great desires. Just like keeping my son safe is a great desire.
 
But I have to accept that medical tests proved Maguire is no longer allergic. And more importantly I have to full out accept Jesus’ grace. That it is truly ALL I need. I have to stop doubting and second-guessing. I don’t have to take things into my own hands, just in case God doesn’t know what’s going on, or isn’t capable of handling the situation. Because God knows everything. And He can handle everything. In my life and in yours.

What are you freaking out about right now? The balance of your bank account? Your relationship status? Your grades? Your quiet time, playing time, personal time, airtime, time of departure or arrival?
 
Christ’s grace is sufficient. Jesus says, “I’ve got this. I have this. Trust me. Don’t believe me? Look at all the times I’ve guided, saved, directed, and held you up in the past. Still don’t believe me? I died to save you, that’s how much I love you.”
 
“Right. He’s got this.” We don’t have to freak out. We do need to do our part. But then we have to trust. And when we do, we can outgrow our dependency on trying to prove ourselves worthy. Jesus says we are worthy. Jesus says He loves us. And nothing we eat or do or forget or achieve can ever change that.

​What are you afraid of?
 
At my house our list includes:
Mice, snakes, thunderstorms, dogs, being late to practice, going to the dentist, getting a demerit, to name a few.

​And when we take a look at these fears, we know they’re all silly, inconsequential, and yet…they’re rooted in something—some memory or impression that shoots off a warning in our brains.
 
For all of you puppy lovers out there, you cannot believe I even said someone could be afraid of dogs. The story behind the story? My daughter and I are both fiercely allergic to anything with fur. Ever since my kids can remember when a dog comes near Mallory or Mom, we back away. When a dog licks or rubs against Mallory or Mom we step back, Dad steps in front of us like Sir Lancelot to protect us. The clothes get washed. The hands get scrubbed. It’s like we go into total decontamination mode. So not surprisingly, my kids have it planted in their heads when you see a dog, you shy away.
 
But we have more serious fears, don’t we?
Fear of rejection, of not measuring up, of making the wrong decision, of losing someone we love, of going down the wrong path again, of not being able to pay our bills, of what the doctor will say, of the unknown.
 
But no matter what our fears are. God says, “Nothing of me is in fear. Nothing.”
God says, “I am perfect love,” and perfect love casts out fear. 1 John 4:18
 
Knowing this means we don’t have to be afraid. 

So…what are you afraid of? Where is the world or the competition or the enemy trying to sneak in, weaken you, make you doubt?
 
Over 70 times in the Bible it says, “Fear Not.” “Be not afraid.” It’s not a suggestion, but a command. It’s often followed with, “because I am with you” “because I will fight for you,” or “because you are mine.”
 
And yet, we’re still afraid. Of something. Of lots of things. Of unknown things.
I don’t want to be afraid.
I want to be fearless.
 
As a lover of words, I think maybe getting out of fear comes from understanding the word “fear”. There are actually two words for fear that frequently appear in the Bible.

1. The Greek word meaning “be afraid” or phobeo (fa bay oh) or phobos where we get our English word, phobia. It originally meant flight, as in take flight—turn coat and run from that big bear chasing you through the woods.
2. The Hebrew word “fear” yare' (yar-ay) which means, “to be in awe,” like of a spectacular sunset or the magnificent ocean.

When the Bible speaks of “fearing the Lord” it means yare, being in awe of God.
When scripture speaks of “do not be afraid” it means phobeo, meaning no need to run, no need to hide.

​Are we 100% in awe of God. Yare of who God is. Of how God loves us. Of the power of what Jesus did on that first Good Friday, what He did on the cross? Are we stunned by God and all He does, or are we trying to be the ones to impress others, running our hearts out on the performance treadmill? Striving to be good? To be good enough? A good enough friend, student, worker, parent, family member, spouse? A good person, or a good Christian?
 
Because we don’t’ have to perform. We have this gorgeous gift of unconditional love from the Savior of the World. Jesus loves you and me no matter where we’ve been, no matter how we ended up here, no matter what we’re struggling with today. Every day it blows me away that Jesus offers this amazing grace to a wretch like me (and like you, wretch or not). But He does. And because He offers it freely, we no longer have to strive. We have nothing to fear. His perfect love casts out all fear.
 
We are free to live a life of awe and wonder--yare'—and when we truly live in amazement of that, keep our eyes fixed on His love and glory, we never need to be concerned with phobos again.
 
Happy Easter!