When fear meets love
As is common, I received my first Bible in third grade at the end of my first year of attending Sunday School. It was the Revised Standard Version with a faux black leather cover. I carried that Bible with me for years. I used it college religion classes and even through my first semester in seminary. Now it sits on a shelf and is stuffed with fond memories. The caterpillar bookmark naming each part of the Bible and other Sunday School remnants, a copy of “A Child’s Creed” yellow around the edges, notes from mostly forgotten retreat weekends, and scores of underlined and highlighted passages.
Also tucked in the pages are a few colorful tracts with different psalms printed on them. Memories flood my being any time I pick up this Bible. Today I am envisioning one of those tracts, the one printed with Psalm 46. I remember exactly where it came from. I was 15 and hospitalized after I had overdosed. The Rev. John Williams handed it to me. The care and concern for me were evident in his presence and his voice. Equally clear is that he did not know what to say. So he handed me a few of these tracts and indicated that they might be helpful in some way. He said that he often gave them to “people in pain.” One of them was Psalm 46.
At the time, I didn’t pay much attention because I was as uncomfortable as John was, though for different reasons. It was late in the night when I read the words, “God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear…” I remember sobbing and whispering, “God help me, please.” I was surrounded by fear, being consumed by fear, and I so desperately wanted to believe that God could help me.
