Bold Imagination or was it?

Bold Imagination

            All I remembered was glass broken everywhere and a respectable policeman saying, “It’s a good thing they weren’t successful breaking in because if they had, you wouldn’t be here and certainly wouldn’t be telling your story.”  He meant we’d be dead.  That was how wicked the mafia fleeing from the police had been. Those thoughts made me afraid for my family for the first time in our beloved Brazil.

            I considered myself bold staying at the youth camp outside of town with just our son. I had done it many times and was never fearful. I loved our home and I loved Brazil, but since the police chase that ended at our front door in the middle of the night I changed, not apparently realizing it. Guns, ammunition, robbery and a police chase that ended on our door step wasn’t part of their plans either.  

            A few months later my husband Bill, was traveling.  He was hundreds of miles away to the famous Iguacu Falls on the border of Argentina and Brazil and would be there for a few weeks at the orphanage to help build and do some painting.  I was tired and weary for not sleeping well.  I sat in front of our son’s bedroom door a couple of nights while my husband was away.  All of a sudden our son’s safety was totally on me—or was it? 

            God was not included in my attempts to feel brave and bold.  It was a fleshly sort of bold—and I owned it---It was mine while I sat exhausted outside of 9 year old Robert’s door.  I was afraid to sleep for fear something would happen and I wouldn’t hear his cries for help.

            I tucked fear inside making it feel at home.  Our 13 year old daughter was away to boarding school so I knew in my heart she was fine.  She was happy there with her studies and friends.  But at this moment I could only think of someone breaking in, like that time after the mafia made attempts of entering while we were inside the house.  I didn’t realize how it traumatized me.  Months later here I am beginning to panic inside.

            I was so consumed with fear and worry that I became obsessed.  I sat with arms wrapped around my knees, tears running down my face.  My vivid imagination took place of trust in the Lord.  Bold?  Yes bold!  Not the type of bold to hang a blue ribbon of heroism on.  This boldness originally of trust, was now stripped away showing me in the “raw” the naked real me trying to face the greatest enemy alone. The Devil himself steps in at my time of weakness.

            But God was looking on; He knew I was there. I was so wrapped in fear I couldn’t see or feel God’s presence. He knew I would find my way back through the dark. His hand was always outstretched.  I finally reached out and took His hand.  He had been there all along.  Not too long after this I hit rock bottom; a place you don’t want to go.

            I saw for the first time what fear can do to the mind and the body.  Miles away from town, no phone, and the sound of people outside sent me to think the worse. The incident months before triggered all my feelings festered at this very moment. I had not dealt with what took place that night months ago.

            I had taken those thoughts and fears instead of asking God to take them, and I mulled over and over them wondering what could have happened if the men had entered successfully. Yes it is that culprit, “What if,” again!

            Bold is going to the Lord with all our hearts, with fear, anguish, and worry, anticipating comfort and protection as well as wisdom in matters like these. God is sufficient, but when we contemplate only on the negative or the worse, we will not know His sufficiency. 

            Why didn’t I claim Ephesians 3:12?  In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith of him. (KJV)  Why didn’t I boldly go to God? He would have understood.