Echoing Fear

Written by: Jessica Russo
Co-blogger for Truly Fed Ministries
 

Fear has plagued me over these past few weeks. Numbing me like the feeling of a cool wind sweeping over newly shaven skin. I see the blessings and joy in my life, I know they are there but I could not feel their entirety. When internal factors are weighing on my ability to fully embrace life I have to search out those numbing elements, take an aggressive hold on them, and drag them out of me.

There are two types of fear that usually affect me. The first being a general concern for safety of my family or loved ones. For example, if a child is doing something unsafe and I am fearful they may get hurt. I call this momentary fear. Once the action is corrected the fear is gone. This is an instinctive healthy fear that everyone experiences.

The second type is the anxiety, worry, or fear of future events or outcomes that I/we have no control over. I call this echoing fear. At times you don’t even know where the fear comes from it just keeps reverberating in your head while silently consuming you in its paralyzing fog. The Bible tells us this fear is not from God.

2 Timothy 1:7
For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

Echoing fear set in a little over a week ago when I woke up unable to walk. My struggle with back pain began as a teenager when I injured my lower spine in a car wreck. As time went by I would have occasional flare-ups but they were mostly manageable then they would pass. Last week was in no way manageable. Pain was shooting from my lower back down my right leg. Immediately my mind goes to my work-outs; “Will I be able to maintain my work-outs,” “Will I be limited to walking for the rest of my life?”

Now ladies (and gents) let me tell you; I like my crazy work-outs. Running obstacle courses, lifting weights, running through mud, sand, water, you name it. The more intense they are the better. I live and breathe this wildness. So the thought of never being able to do it again sent me in an automatic tailspin of worry, anger, fear, and sadness.

I would try to push myself to walk, bend over, or move in any way. The pain reigned supreme over my stubbornness so, with two kids tagging along, I went to the emergency room. Leaving the ER I had gained a variety of medication prescriptions and two specialists referrals but no answer or treatment. Returning to my bed I sat in my own self-pity for about an hour before I used a lifeline and phoned a friend. As exceptional friends often do, she knew exactly what to say.

As soon as I hung up the phone I began to speak aloud “This fear is not part of me.” “This fear is the devil and I will not allow it to consume me.”

Echoing fear is not from God but from Satan. Send it back into darkness where it belongs. No matter what is darkening your mind with worry, anxiety, doubt or fear, cast it back where it came from and look to God for your joy, your direction, and your peace.

Psalm 34:4
“I sought the LORD, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears”

My medical update is ongoing but promising. As for other fears that plague me I have written them down in a list. Each day I denounce one of them and pray for sound mind regarding that fear. Then I mark it off and do my best to never revisit it again. There are fears on my list such as health, my child’s education, food/weight issues, and personal failure. You may share some of these fears and/or have others of your own.

We all have echoing fears. It is a strong tool of Satan’s and he loves to use it. God has given all of us a spirit of power and peace over any other forces that Satan can use. I don’t know about you but that alone allows me the authority to consciously defend and protect myself from the darkness of doubt, worry, or echoing fear.

Blessings,
Jessica

Be Brave...

Of all the most beloved scriptures in the bible, none is more recognized than the first line of the 23^rd

Psalm.  “The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want.”  This line has been uttered from fox holes in

bloody war battles, from ambulance stretchers, from jail cells, from school buildings, from lonely

beds, and hands holding empty checkbooks.  I love this line of scripture, but further in this Psalm is

a line that hovers over fear.  It taunts, and dares fear to rear its head.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”(vs. 5)

I used to think enemies were political fights between countries, but now I realize it’s more personal.  We face enemies each moment we breathe.  The noise we hear in our head that tells us we can’t change; we won’t grow; we will fail.  The thieving stabs Satan thrashes to bloody our families, relationships, dreams, and health.  The lost hope of addiction, procrastination, abuse, and dull neglect.  These are enemies of the worst kind.  Enemies that torture with a low grade temperature that spirals to heat rash. 

The power of this verse lies in the fact that God Himself leads us to a dressed table.  He pulls out the seat and places an embroidered napkin into our laps as He pushes the chair in.  He lights exquisite candles that cast a mellow glow over the table as the polished silver begs to be placed between our fingers.  A plate sits before us, clean and unsoiled, like the spirit within us refreshed by the cross. 

Calm and sure, God sets this table while the screams of our enemies blare. Smack in the heat of the hiss and snarl; right in the center of the terror; He sets a table for us.  He isn’t shaken.  He’s the essence of peace. 

One of the first times I shared this concept I had about 165 ladies stand up and walk to the back of the room where I was teaching.  I asked for a volunteer that I gently led to a seat at a table while everyone circled around.  The table was draped with a soft green cloth and etched glass candlesticks.   Strings of clear beads sparkled like jewels in a crown as I silently lit the candles and placed the cloth napkin in her lap.  As we looked at the beauty of the table, I reminded the ladies that this is what God beckons us to. We joined hands and bowed our heads together to soak up that moment and pray.  As women began to pray I could hear the soft rain of tears.  Our prayers began as hushed praises, and grew to bold pronouncements of God’s goodness.  One woman prayed for her wayward daughter while another moaned over the loss of a son.  Another woman shouted that she would no longer fear the co-workers that spoke poorly of her, while another broke into a verse of Amazing Grace that we sang sweetly together.  All of a sudden I realized that there were not only gentle tears being shed, but heaving sobs.  It was as if the Holy Spirit washed over that scene with a cloth so authentic it couldn’t be mistaken for anything but glory. 

In the week that followed I received dozens of comments: “I’ve never felt the Lord like that!”  “His presence was oozing from the walls.”  “What a time of healing and grace.” Proof that even though our enemies are in the midst, they aren’t invited to sit at the table.  God’s reserved that spot for you. 

I once heard Dr. Larry Crabb say that though we are invited to sup with the King, we often crawl under the banquet table and beg for crumbs like dogs.   Not in this scene.  We are seated at the table and God is our waiter.  He’s died to serve us.

Why does this demand bravery?  Isn’t God the brave one to set our table in the midst of enemies?  What’s brave about simply sitting down?

 Bravery sits with valor.  Though our hands and feet feel like running , we sit at the table, posture straight, and let God prepare.  We aren’t setting the table ourselves, we aren’t crawling around under it, and we aren’t cowering in another room.  We gallantly rest in the chair and let God prepare the table we are meant to dine at. 

Won't you dine with me sweet friends?

Blessings!

Gari

(This is an exerpt from my upcoming book Spirit Hunger released in early October)

Flower

Written by: Jessica Russo

Co-blogger for Truly Fed Ministries
Arriving back from vacation and I didn’t waste any time getting into the swing of things. It is VBS week at Second Baptist Church in Houston, TX and what an exciting time it is. Last year I assisted in a third grade classroom but this year the coordinators assigned me a teacher role in Kindergarten. I must admit I was not jumping for joy with this assignment because this is probably my least favorite age group but I figured God was trying to teach me something so I entered the classroom with a joyful heart ready to see what God had in store for all of us this week.

As the children filed in the room and chaos ensued, a little girl was hesitant to leave her mom and join our class. She was silent when I asked her name and just shook her head no. “Would you like to be called something else?” I asked, “I will call you whatever you want.” She looked up almost in tears and whispered “Flower.” We wrote Flower on her nametag and she reluctantly walked over and sat at our class table.

Our Bible lesson the first day was on Gideon and how God wants to use all of us. When we got back to the classroom we reviewed the lesson and I asked questions. When it was Flower’s turn for a question I asked her how God could use her and she replied “God talks to me.” This was a strange answer so I asked another question for clarity “How does God talk to you?” I asked. She pointed around the room at each teacher and said “Through her, and her, and her.”

Now ladies let me tell you that was a defining moment for me in that classroom. My role there was not to herd these little chickens from room to room and feed them a snack once a day; my job was to show them Jesus through me. They were looking for it, expecting it, and fully deserving of it.

When Flower proclaimed that God speaks to her through the older generations it provoked a new train of thought for me. 2 Timothy 3:16-17 tells us that God speaks to us through scripture and Romans 12:2 tells us God speaks to us through our thoughts and impressions. A child that cannot read and has not developed mature thought processing must totally rely on their elders to guide, guard, and direct them spiritually. That’s not a task to be taken lightly for me.

Proverbs 22:6 Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.

This has me questioning if God is speaking through me to my children and are there times the devil speaks through me. All the times I think ‘do as I say, not as I do’ is this evil speaking through me? Am I imitating the Lord in all that I say and do to the extent that He is speaking through me? What are my own children seeing in me? It is amazing that I have spent my entire life studying God’s word and growing as a Christian and a five-year-old can plant something so deep in my heart that it completely changes my awareness.

God planted little Flower in my classroom to teach me each child needs that ray of light He shines through us and each child needs living water that flows from the heart of believers. With this, all His little flowers can grow, bloom, and spread the beauty of God.

Matthew 5:16
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

Blessings,
Jessica

Bread Please?

I've just returned from a breathtaking trip to Uganda.  Although I've been there before, I still came home in a bewildered state.  I was bewildered by how I so easily forget that 99% of the world doesn't live like I do.  I was bewildered when I looked at buffets, clean clothes, and toilets that flush.  But quickly my bewildered rag of emotion turned to a smooth linen of joy.  Something in me began to well up as I reflected on the days I spent traversing the remotest parts of the earth.  Every ounce of comfort; every scrap of routine or predictability was yanked from my control loving mind.  We were on a quest to the core of humanity.  The place where the God of heaven meets the desperate on Earth. 

The trip started out a bit rough as my team arrived at Bush International Airport in Houston.  As we quickly unloaded our luggage my heart sank as I realized my backpack, (stocked with my passport and money) was accidentally left on the front porch of my home 45 minutes away.  With 3 members of our team crying, I sent them off, assuring them I would join them the next day.  It takes 2 days to get to Uganda, so I would miss our first day at the orphanage--but I was encouraged that I wouldn't miss any of the time I was expected to speak at The Miracle Crusade.  I boasted to our team "If this is the worst Satan can heap on us...Bring it!"  Oh my...was I in for a wild ride...

The delay proved to be a blessing as I spent the better part of the next 48 hours ingesting the Bible. I was ready.  Prepared. Expectant.  Our plan was to spend the first 3 days of the trip at Musana orphanage.  I was going to speak at their church on Sunday, and lead a Bible study that night for the adults that work there.  When I woke that morning I was in a hurry to get ready.  I noticed some marks on my face, but it wasn't until late afternoon that I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror.  I was bitten by a spider 21 times on my face during the night.  I looked like someone took a bright red marker and drew all over my face.  I hate spiders! And the thought of one marching across my face about made me sick.  Somehow I knew I was living out my challenge to Satan.  "Bring it!" was now starting to hurt a bit...

Our next stop was to travel to a remote village where the crusade was being held.  When I say remote, I mean off the maps, dirt road, traveling for hours in the dark to a place we aren't even sure exists.  I kept encouraging the team "Faith not fear..." as we finally stepped out of our dusty van.  We crawled to our beds knowing that the conference began in the morning, but as I lay in bed that night I started to feel the familiar greeting of an unwelcome intruder.  Violent diarrhea and stomach pain kept me awake all night as I ran to the toilet every 15 minutes.  As dawn approached I knew I had to make a decision.  If I had been at home, I probably would have been in Urgent Care I was so dehydrated, but I decided to trust God to somehow get me through the day. 

We pulled up to an old railway grounds where the conference was taking place.  Hundreds and hundreds of people were gathered; some sitting ,some standing, and some trying to get a glimpse from afar. Faces like caramel smiled with yellowed teeth, they hugged us and welcomed us to their village.   I taught from the Bible 3 times that day, and at one point needed to be held up by one of the women on our team. I was so weak--but I knew we were part of the canvas that God was painting over that place for a few magical days. 

Every time we would get to a part of the bible where God had a victory the people would wildly shout "Amen! Amen!" They danced to the music and jumped in praise.  Young kids were perched on a mountainside that sat next to the stage, families seemed to pop out of the cornfields in the distance.  I wondered if this was how Jesus felt when he preached to the multitudes. 

At times I questioned how I would communicate to these gorgeous people.  With so many different languages being spoke between them, I wondered if they understood me at all.  And then God imparted a message to me.  He simply said "power is perfected in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12)  I realized that it made no difference whether they understood my language.  It didn't matter that I come from such different life-experiences.  What matters is that we all need the bread of life, and He was feeding us all in ways we'd never capture with words. 

The picture I placed at the top of this blog was taken on the streets of Jinga in Uganda.  A pack of about 7 young boys, obviously homeless and hungry, were making their way down a busy street.  I watched as people ignored them or looked at them with skeptic mistrust.  When they came to me they started with a "tourist" act to make me feel bad for them.  They didn't have to because I already felt bad for them.  I simply asked "What do you need?"  One of the older boys whispered "We need bread."
I gave them enough money to buy several loaves, but wanted to make sure that's what they were buying, so I followed them to a small market.  You've never seen such elation over loaves of bread.  They jumped, they hugged, and they embraced me with sweet thanks.  I shook my head in humility as I uttered to the Lord "Isn't that what we all need?  The bread of life?  Aren't we all in need of it?" 

I learned more lessons in Africa than I taught. 
I'm desperate for His bread, and will never forget the "Amens!"  of my African friends who are desperate right along with me.

Blessings!
Gari