Recently, my husband established a boundary for how our family relates to those around us. The boundary isn’t unusual or controversial. It is gentle, respectful, loving, and an intentional move towards healthy relationships and growth. I am so thankful for it, and I fully support him in it. Or at least, I’m fully supportive most of the time. The setting of a boundary, regardless of how good and appropriate it is, brushes up against a familiar fear for me. Perhaps you know my old foe—the fear of man.
The fear of man is a theme and a caution repeated throughout the Bible. Whether it’s talked about directly or in abstract, the message is the same: “Be careful!” The fear of man is a snare, hidden and debilitating. In his book, When People are Big and God is Small, Ed Welch gets to the heart of this fear and the ways in which it can entrap us. He writes:
“1. We fear people because they can expose and humiliate us. 2. We fear people because they can reject, ridicule, or despise us. 3. We fear people because they can attack, oppress, or threaten us. These three reasons have one thing in common: they see people as ‘bigger’ (that is, more powerful and significant) than God, and, out of the fear that creates in us, we give other people the power and right to tell us what to feel, think, and do.”
For me, the fear of man plays out in a thousand different ways. Right now, in the establishing of a good and healthy boundary, I worry about the reaction of those around us and the possibility of causing anger or hurt. Living cross-culturally, it showed up in slow language learning when I was too afraid to practice for fear I might accidentally say something offensive. (Anyone else experienced that minefield with learning a tonal language?) Or in uncertainty in developing deep cross-cultural relationships. What if I committed some cultural faux pas I didn’t know about and destroyed both my friendship and the representation of the Gospel in one fell swoop? The fear showed up at home as well. Partnership development and raising funds felt rife with the risk of causing discomfort or offense. And, as I stepped into more leadership positions, fear looked like a hesitation to challenge or confront people when it was needed.
In all of these examples, I convinced myself that my motivation was love. After all, isn’t it loving and good to live in harmony with others, to show respect and care, to strive to avoid offense? But in these situations, love would have looked very different. Love sees God as big and people as small, yet infinitely precious in his sight, and it acts accordingly. Love would have leaned into language learning and friendships, humbly embracing discomfort and mistakes and allowing room for true friendship to grow. Love would boldly share the challenges and needs of ministry, extending the invitation for people to partner in the work without apology or shame. Love would challenge people, or establish boundaries, for their growth and flourishing. Love wouldn’t be indifferent to the discomfort and fear, but it would not be governed by them. Love would be the outworking of an identity and confidence that rests secure in the Lord rather than one depending on the feedback and opinions of others.
As I’ve grown in my journey with the Lord and as I’ve gotten help from mentors and counselors, my fear of man has diminished. It hasn’t gone away. I still get caught in its snare from time to time. But I’m slowly getting better at recognizing its influence. Getting better at remembering who I am in Christ and trusting that he is working. Slowly (so slowly!) I’m getting better at choosing love instead of fear, even when it’s hard.
Is fear of man something that you have grappled with in your own life? What would it look like for you to choose love instead of fear?
