Are You Afraid of the What-ifs?

The room was dark as pitch. I lay wide awake, concerns flooding my mind. Then I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. In the inky blackness, the formidable creature lay almost still. Was there a feral hog in our room? A badger? Texas is known for gargantuan insects and wily beasts. It wasn’t unreasonable to think something had snuck in through an open door without notice. Whatever it was, I was convinced we were under attack.

I tried to steady my breathing when it moved suddenly and burrowed under the pillow of my sleeping husband. I shot up in bed and looked more carefully for the intruder who was after us both. Upon careful inspection, I saw it was attached to my husband! That made sense, of course, since it was his arm. I laughed at myself and lay back down, my heart still hammering in my chest.

My husband’s strong arms, like all parts of him, aren’t scary to me. They have held me in grief and tenderly carried our little girls. But in the dark, with my vision skewed, I mistook part of him for a beast. As ridiculous as this story is, it feels embarrassingly familiar.

In the dark of night, I’ve considered many ordinary things to be threatening and scary. I’m not just talking about shadows on the wall or that ridiculous tree branch slapping against the window, but about fear. Legit, freak-you-out-of-your-mind scary thoughts about tomorrow.

In bed, in the quiet, we’re prone to take account of the day’s events. We won some, we lost some. But what about the missteps? What if I’m blowing it with my kids? What if the report from the doctor isn’t good? What if he doesn’t make it? What if we have to move?

It turns out there is a monster under the bed, and it’s called what if.

In the opaque of the unknown, our thoughts can take us to the worst-case scenario. It makes sense that the one bent on destroying us would want to keep attacking us in this murky place. Keeping someone in the dark is a deliberate act, intended to leave them uninformed. We cannot make an accurate assessment of our lives in such an oblivious place. We need to turn on the light.

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12 NIV).

Following Christ is our way out of the dark. But we won’t find the light when we take the lead. Worry rises when we try to concoct the perfect plan or imagine ourselves alone, facing our worst fears. But in him we are never alone, and it’s not up to us to light the way.

Accidents happen. Things don’t go as planned. Yet in the warmth of Christ’s loving presence, we can face whatever tomorrow brings.

As the adage says, we don’t know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future. Though it sounds like something you’d find cross-stitched on a grandma’s pillow, it is life-changing truth for us. “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7 NKJV).

The spirit of fear, though menacing with the lights out, doesn’t get the last say. When we bask in the brilliance of Christ’s presence, fear is declawed and disappears under the pillow. We realize our concerns weren’t threats after all; they just looked daunting from our limited perspective.

When the toothless what if monster starts slithering around our minds, we need to check our thoughts and remember the facts:

We are more than conquerors. (Romans 8:37)

All things work together for good. (Romans 8:28)

We have all we need for life and godliness. (2 Peter 1:3)

Goodness and love will follow us all the days of our lives. (Psalm 23:6)

We are the head and not the tail. (Deuteronomy 28:13)

The next time you’re in the shadowy spiral of your concerns, get out of the dark. Remind yourself of what God says about you and the promise of his presence.

As God’s love filters in, comfort and peace are lit up. We can rest comfortably in the loving arms of the One who holds tomorrow.

Melinda Mattson will follow any sign that leads to the promise of vintage décor and repurposed treasures. As a wife and mom to two dear daughters, her home is filled with equal measures of sugar and spice. She loves kindness and Jesus and is glad they’re meant to come as a package deal. She aims to embrace both with equal fervor. Melinda blogs at www.melindamattson.com.