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Fear-Less Pt. 3
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Today I want to give you three things that fear will have you certain of — three things you need to learn how to be wrong about.
The first thing fear will make you certain about is people. Fear will have you thinking, "I know who they are."
Fear will have you looking at people who are different than you and saying, "Oh, I already know what they're about." What you think about other people will have you making up stories that aren't true — and your pride doesn't care to confirm them. Why? Because fear tries to protect itself. And the only way for fear to protect me is to make you an enemy.
This is why we get so segregated. And I wish I couldn't say it isn't in the church, but sadly it still is. We look at different people and think, "I don't know about them." The truth is, you're afraid. And instead of just admitting you're afraid, you make up stories. You distance yourself. You talk about people. You say, "We don't do stuff like that."
I'm not just talking about the color of somebody's skin. I'm talking about other churches. We make up stories:
What do you know about their heart? You're afraid, and you're wrong about them.
I had a friend I started trying to bring to church. I can't tell you how sideways people looked at him because he had tattoos. "Who's this guy? He may have a rough..." Don't they know they shouldn't be wearing that? No, they don't — that's why they're in here. Don't they know we don't do that here? You don't do anything here except sit in that chair.
I've been wrong about people. I've been wrong.
Fear will have you thinking you know why people do what they do. But when you think you know why somebody did what they did, it's not a reflection of them — it's a reflection of you. Because you're thinking about what you would do if you were them, and you ain't them.
"Well, I know if that was me, the only reason I would have done that is..." — that's you. That says nothing about them.
Fear will also have you wrong about your path in life. It'll have you thinking, "Oh, I know how God's going to do this. I'm going to go here, then here, then here." And God says, "What if we go this way?"
I'm supposed to go from glory to glory. But ask Paul — flogged, riding jail to jail, writing from prison — what glory to glory means. It doesn't mean rich to rich and check to check. It means:
Obedience to obedience, faithfulness to faithfulness, kindness to kindness, love to love, gentleness to gentleness, self-control to self-control.
Here's some dangerous language I've used before: "I just feel peace about it." Okay — but what do you mean by peace?
So if you're in control, that's how you know it's God? One of my best friends in the world has a saying: "Follow the nausea."
Do you think Peter felt in control when God said, "Step out of the boat"? If following Jesus doesn't make you feel awkward every once in a while...
A couple of weeks ago, on Father's Day, we called all the men down to the front. I was standing up here, so I could see. 99.2% of the men stood there like, "This is a good worship song."
I want to challenge you, man of God — lift your hands. "Oh, I don't need to be doing all that." We saw you during the finals. We saw you had your whole face painted. This should feel a little uncomfortable. Following Jesus should feel a little awkward.
If following Jesus is like, "Man, this is great, my life is better, everything's working out, I'm getting checks in the mail, I'm getting prophetic words about becoming a billionaire, and I don't even really have to do anything" — that's not what this book is like.
There's a scripture where a crowd starts following Him, and He says, "If you want to follow Me, just pick up your cross and follow Me." They weren't thinking about a Jesus piece around their neck. All they knew was Roman crucifixion. The cross wasn't associated with Jesus when He said this. "You want to follow Me? Pick up your cross. Come on."
I've been wrong about my path. I thought I knew: God, You do it this way, then this way, then that way. And when it doesn't go the way I thought, I think, "Man, I don't know about this God stuff." But I've been wrong.
I've been wrong about people. I've been wrong about my path. And many times I've had the wrong perspective — because fear starts assigning meaning to everything.
Fear will have you saying, "The reason they're not there is because you weren't enough. If you were enough, your dad would have stayed. If you were good enough, you would have gotten promoted — but you're not good enough."
Fear will have you making up stories before anything has even happened.
Fear will have you standing on the edge of commitment, making up stories about why you won't commit. You've got somebody you love, but you won't marry them because you've already made up a story: "I already know I'm going to cheat on him, because every man in my family has cheated. So at least it won't be as bad if we don't get married."
Fear will have you ready to start a business, ready to do something, but already ten steps ahead: "It'll probably work for a little bit, then go sideways, and I'll be right back here, and I'll have to come back..."
No, friend. Fear will have you certain about stuff you don't know at all — obsessed with what you can't control, and it will cost you the very thing it promises to protect.
At the end of Joseph's story, his brothers are there saying, "Listen, we did you wrong. We're so sorry." And his response is proof of the Spirit of God inside him: "You weren't wrong — God was right. You meant it to hurt me, you meant it to break me, but God was making me."
What you don't realize is that when you threw me in that pit the first time, I had to deal with me. I had to figure out who I was without that coat. I had to figure out who I was when everybody didn't agree with me. That pit gave me something your praise could never give me.
So I thought it was wrong — but thank goodness I was wrong about my process:
And I almost got it wrong when they put me over everybody, because I thought status meant I was all the way in purpose. But I was wrong. God didn't put me there for that — Scripture says He put me there so that many lives could be saved.
Whatever story fear has made you certain about — I don't know what it is:
All I'm saying is: you don't know that yet. You don't know what God might do. You don't know what He's planning. You don't know how He's working.
And be careful of the story your religion makes you certain of. Because you know what people were certain about?
There's one picture I love. Jesus is up on the cross between two thieves who deserved to be there. But this is the holy, merciful, gracious, omnipotent, omniscient Creator of the universe — who had done nothing wrong. Pure as snow, never an ill thought in His spirit. His only intention was to love, to give, to help you figure out how to be you.
And the people He made pinned Him to a tree, because they were certain, "This isn't who we've been waiting for. The King we've been waiting for is going to overthrow Rome and come back raging war."
They didn't know He was raging war — not on the external, but the internal. He was raging war on depression. He was raging war on our lack of righteousness. They weren't certain who He was.
Scripture gives us two different people in this story. One thief is on the cross, and I think he starts to look around and think, "I think we're wrong. I don't know..." And it's beautiful, because Jesus doesn't say anything.
When you get around Jesus, you can just feel it. This is why your life is so important — not what you say, but how you live. Not what you post, not what you project. How you live. Because if the Spirit of God is inside you, people will be sitting there in their sin thinking, "I think I got this wrong. Their marriage looks different than ours. I think I got this wrong."
And the thief on the cross says, "Hey, I think I got it wrong. You think You could remember me?"
And there's another one I love — a Roman soldier who probably helped nail His hands to that tree. Matthew tells us:
At noon, darkness fell across the whole land... Some bystanders misunderstood and thought He was calling for Elijah. One of them ran and filled a sponge with sour wine, holding it up to Him. But the rest said, "Wait, let's see if Elijah comes." Then Jesus shouted out again and released His spirit.
At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary of the temple was torn in two — from the top to the bottom.
If it had torn from bottom to top, a man could have done it. But it tore from the top down.
And the earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened up. The bodies of many godly men and women who had died were raised from the dead. They walked out of the cemeteries after Jesus's resurrection, went into Jerusalem, and appeared to many people.
Then the Roman officer and the other soldiers at the crucifixion were terrified, and they said, "This man truly was the Son of God."
I just want to say — it's okay to be wrong.
