“For God gave us a spirit, not of fear, but of power and love and self-control.”

The verse’s assurance knocked the breath out of my shivering, twelve-year-old body that Sunday morning. Suddenly everything –  the chilly sanctuary with its stiff wooden pews and the filigreed pocket Bible that was the light of my preteen eyes – vanished in the blazing glory of the Apostle Paul’s declaration. 

Can this really be true? I faltered in the face of my hitherto unshakable fears: How would I score at my next violin competition? Would “normal” kids ever accept me since I was homeschooled and loved literature and classical music? What’s more, my fears were founded on reality. I could perform poorly, and I’d experienced my share of social rejection. But God, through the Apostle Paul, was promising me power, and love, and self-control in spite of my experiences. And God never lied. How would I respond? 

That morning was the first time I remember encountering 2 Timothy 1:7, but since then God has reminded me of that promise at crucial moments when I’ve felt like I was about to be overpowered by fear. Perhaps my preteen troubles seem trivial to us adults, but we can all remember how the hardships we experienced as young people seemed like the pinnacle of suffering. It’s only with additional life experience (and cognitive and emotional development), that we gain perspective to evaluate those circumstances in a more holistic light.  

The same is true of our suffering as adults. Perhaps an illness, or lay-off, or relational fracture that seemed almost beyond our capacity to endure five years ago looks different now that we have seen God sustain us over time and discerned what he was teaching. Each time he brings us through a trial, it should increase our confidence in his faithfulness for the next trial. 

I say “should” because in my own life, I’ve discovered this process is not always linear. Severe physical suffering has been a personal theme for many years, and I’ve been blessed that God had helped me to cling to what I know to be true of him and his Word during those times. But as God graciously removed the suffering I endured from uncontrolled seizures, I’ve been confronted with some relational disconnects that the seizures camouflaged. And I’ve discovered that, because of my brain injury, painful emotions can shake me much more deeply than physical suffering ever did. Although my verbal skills are high, my rational and emotional processing can become disconnected when I perceive something’s wrong or there’s actual conflict. The result is that even though I know certain things are true about God, his Word, or even a particular person, it can be extremely hard to overcome the hurt once it’s imprinted. 

I share this struggle because, while not everyone has a brain injury, I believe we all find ourselves in similar situations at some point. There will come a time for all of us when what we know about God and his Word – and possibly the person in front of us – doesn’t line up with how we’re feeling. And we’ll discover our feelings seem impossible to overcome. Like my twelve-year-old self on that Sunday morning, we’ll be confronted with the question, “Now what?” My preteen fears didn’t vanish overnight. I memorized 2 Timothy 1:7 and repeated it over and over again before I saw measurable change. I’m still in the trenches of a daily battle to believe that God’s Spirit of “power, love, and self-control” is fully available to me every moment of every day, no matter what the day may hold. The key is to keep asking God for his power, trusting that he never gets tired of my requests (James 1:5), and that he delights to give good things to all who ask him (Luke 11:13). That is who he always has been, and that is who he always will be. Will you join me?