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FEAR-LESS (Part 5)
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Scripture: 2 Timothy 1:1-12 (NLT)
For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, of love, and self-discipline. So never be ashamed to tell others about the Lord... For I know who I trust, and I am sure he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until the day of his return.
If I could live your story for you, I would. If I could show you how I see you — to give you the confidence to know what God put on the inside of you, to see yourself the way the Creator of the universe knit you together in your mother's womb before you were formed — I would do that for you. But I can't, because this ain't my story. This is your story, and nobody else can live it for you.
Some of you are going to look at the situation that's kept you bound, remember the God who lives on the inside of you, and have a flip: "Hold on a second. This is not the way my story is going down. I didn't go through all that pain, all that disappointment, all that hell, for this to be my story."
I love a good story. And story is intricate to the human experience, because it is in story that we find hope we fight to see in our real lives. It is in story that we find pictures of who we dream we could be. It is in story that we find meaning and purpose. A good story gives you hope that maybe things could be different — that the pain you're facing could work out one day.
There's a story thousands of years old called The Odyssey — the journey of a man trying to find his way home. Interestingly, we don't even know for sure who wrote it. But what we do know is a good story.
I once heard an actor talking about a scene from a previous film. He had a monologue to deliver — a man giving an apology to a massive crowd. When they called "action," he said, "I felt it deep in my bones. I started crying, the emotion was there, the room was dead silent." One of the greatest pieces of acting he'd ever done.
Then the director called cut and said, "Nope. That ain't it. You're in the wrong movie. This man isn't giving an apology. Give this like you're accepting an award." The actor realized: "I was in the right lines, but somehow deep down I was living the wrong story."
Every great story has a plot, a setting, characters, and conflict. But I want to talk about two things today: every story has an author, and most stories have a narrator.
We all have the same Author.
Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. (Hebrews 12:2)
But here's what you need to know: you get to choose your narrator.
You can be in a great movie with a bad narrator. A narrator can ruin a good film — not by changing what you look at, but by changing how you look at it. A bad narrator will tell you that what's happening to you is the end, that you didn't see it coming, that it's only about who you're not and who you're never going to be.
And here's my simple message: if you're not careful, it's very easy for fear to narrate your life.
God is the author of your story. It wasn't your grandmother. It's not your dad, your coworker, your boss, the culture, or "the man." God is the author. He has numbered every day of your life. He knows exactly how it's going to go, and the Bible tells us He has good plans for you.
All things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)
The only problem is that if you're not careful, fear will sneak in and start narrating God's story back to you: "He forgot about you. Nobody sees you." You could be in your story, protected by God — and that's the reason a friendship isn't clicking — but fear will tell you it's because something's wrong with you.
You get to choose your narrator. It's your choice.
Nobody else is coming. The pastor isn't going to magically do it for you. It's you and the Spirit of God on the inside of you. Your mama can't write your story. Your daddy can't write your story. The money in the bank can't write it. Your good deeds, going to church, a new degree, being a boss — none of that can write your story.
Some of you have been so lazy with your story that you gave it to the first bad person you met, to the first person you dated, to a doctor's report, to abandonment, to loneliness, to depression. It's time to get some power back and remind yourself: "This is my story, and I ain't going to let fear live it for me. It stops today."
I'm sick and tired of blaming everybody else, of waiting on a handout, of trying to control God with my prayers to make Him fix everything that's broken. But thank God the power that raised Christ from the dead lives on the inside of me, and He's empowered me — right here, right now — to take my story back.
We find Paul writing to a young man named Timothy. Paul knows what Timothy doesn't: Timothy is fighting for his story.
At this point in church history, Paul is in prison and, theologians believe, months from death. The first-generation apostles are dying. Timothy is next — a young man pastoring a church in Ephesus that's growing beyond his control, under enormous cultural and leadership pressure in a city that housed the temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the world.
So Paul writes him a letter: "Timothy, I miss you. I love you. I've seen the faith that started in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice." Some of you are only here because somebody who isn't here anymore was praying for you. But now they're gone. This is your story.
And Paul is telling him: fear is standing at the door, trying to see if it can take your story. So he says, "God has not given you a spirit of fear."
In the original language, this isn't fear like something jumping around a corner. It's a military term for a coward in battle — a soldier who trained with his platoon, agreed on the plan, agreed to hold the front line, but when he sees what's ahead, runs from the fight.
Paul comes to Timothy — and I come to you — to say: God did not make you a coward. Fear tried to tell you that you were. That's why you've avoided difficult things, avoided commitment, avoided stepping out, avoided living your dream, avoided talking to certain people. Fear whispers: "It could never work. Just step back and let the qualified people do it." But no — God has not made you a coward. You've got to decide to live your story.
No matter your background or how you were raised, every human on earth shares four core fears. Every fear you have stems from one of these.
The core question: "What do people think about me?"
Your life becomes determined by what they think. If they think you're special, you're special; if they don't, you're not.
You don't say things because you're worried what people will think. You don't step out because of what your family might say. The lie is: "My value comes from your acceptance. I'm only important if you think I'm important." So you have to earn the money, prove your dad wrong, prove you're enough — all narrated and directed by fear.
The core question: "What if I can't do it?"
If you quit before you really tried, nobody can tell whether you weren't good enough or just didn't try. So you say, "I didn't even really want to go to college. I didn't even really want to start the business. I didn't even want to be married." But that's not true — you wanted it more than anything. You were just so afraid of failing that you ran away as fast as you could.
And coupled with this is a fear not everyone knows: the fear of success. Some of you know it's going to work — and you're terrified of what that means.
Where the fear of man is about what others think and the fear of failure is about your skill, the fear of inadequacy tells you: "Something's broken with you."
It says: "It doesn't matter where you go, how much you learn, or what you think — something is intrinsically wrong with you. You'll never be enough. Your last failure is your whole life. You're the reason your family isn't together, the reason the marriage didn't work, the reason nobody's chosen you, the reason you'll never get promoted." These are lies trying to narrate your story.
The core question: "What if I lose what I love? What if I lose what's kept me safe?"
As a kid you devised a plan to keep yourself safe. It worked when you were five, but now you're thirty-five and your life is built on the things you've accumulated. Some of you think that if you just had enough money, you wouldn't be afraid — but it isn't true. There's no amount of money that gives your soul peace. Ten billion dollars, and you'll still worry: "What if the economy crashes? What if they take it all?"
Why? Because deep down you're afraid that if you lose it, you don't know who you are — without the title, the job, the friends, the spouse.
Which one is it? Are you writing your story, or is the opinion of a person you've never met writing it? Are you writing it, or is a loved one who's passed away — who never acknowledged you — still narrating it, so that as a grown person you talk to a coworker as if they were that person?
You've got to acknowledge it. For me, all of them have written my story at different points. Usually you pick up a narrator in your early adolescent years. In sixth grade, I stepped to the free-throw line for the game-winning shots — and missed both. We lost the game.
The line that ran in my head with no stoppage — until just three or four years ago — was this: "You're good enough to be the captain, good enough to be the leader, good enough for the coach to trust you when time runs out, good enough to draw the foul... but when it comes down to it, you don't have what it takes."
That controlled my whole life. In the first years of my marriage I thought, "I'm good enough to find the right girl, good enough to get married — but I don't know if I'm good enough to stay married. I'm good enough to become a pastor, but not good enough to stay one." You've got to recognize who's writing your story.
You don't go to the altar one time and suddenly your story is replaced. A supernatural encounter is real and beautiful, but the Bible says:
Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. (Romans 12:2)
Notice: not by your mind being renewed once, but by the renewing — every single day. You wake up and remind yourself: "My value is not determined by my performance. If I get up here and miss both free throws again, I'm still important, still called, still chosen, still valued — regardless of my performance."
Each fear has a truth to replace it:
Yesterday my four-year-old daughter Jade came marching down the steps in tears because, she said, "Dad, I'm trying to be fashionable like you and Aunt Lorie, and I can't do it." She held up every piece of clothing to the camera. I squished her little face and said, "Girl, Daddy loves you no matter what you wear."
That's a picture of God. The Bible says the Word became flesh and dwelt among us — the eternal, infinite God kneeling down to say, "Your value is not what they said about you. Before you were in your mother's womb, I knew you. I love your mama and your daddy, but I knew you before they did."
Your life will only make sense when you release it. Here's the most powerful thing to recognize: on one hand this is your story — but on the other hand, this ain't your story. You didn't create it. You think your life is about you, that the kids are about you, that God gave you that idea for you, that we opened this church for us.
The most freeing thing is to realize you are not the main character. This is why your life doesn't make sense — because humans make horrible main characters. We do all right as supporting actors and extras, but terrible main characters. There is only one Man who can carry the weight and glory of standing in human history and saying, "I am the main character." And it's not you, friend.
We see this in Jesus. On the cross, pinned there by the people He made, He said:
Into your hands I release my spirit.
Even Jesus knew: "This ain't my story." In the garden He faced the reality of the sin of all human history — past, present, and future — being placed on Him, not metaphorically but in reality. Think of your darkest, heaviest moment, then multiply it past every person who has ever lived, is alive, or will ever be born. That's what was on Him. And He prayed:
Father, if there is any other way... nevertheless, not my will, but yours be done.
If you want to get your story back, it's confusing — because you have to let it go.
Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.
Lord Jesus, thank You for including us in Your story. Thank You for giving us a role even though we were unqualified. Thank You for looking past our bad auditions of holiness and the times we misrepresented You. Right now I pray the Spirit of God would illuminate where people are living a story You never called them to live. May fear be released from their body, mind, thoughts, and the control center of their life. And may the peace of God which transcends understanding rule and reign. Starting today, everyone under the sound of my voice is going to live a new story.
If you've never accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior, this is the ultimate moment of releasing your story. As good as you are, you're not a great main character — but when you put the right Character in the right position, all the other characters start to make sense. Your life won't make sense until Jesus runs it. And I'm not talking about a partial commitment or a couple of your little things — I'm talking about laying your whole life down and saying, "I'm done. I can't do it. Jesus, take control." When you make that choice, it will change your life forever. It's what your soul has been searching for.
Pray this out loud:
Dear God, thank You for loving me. Dear Jesus, I admit I've made mistakes and I've tried to make myself the main character. But today, I release my life to You. Change me, restore me, make me new. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.
