Susan LaffertyMy friend hesitates. Uncomfortable when I speak of “the fear of the Lord.” And pray it for our children.
Through the years, from their youngest days, this has been my prayer. That they may walk in the fear of the Lord. Know His wisdom. Recognize His holiness.
But there are too many things to fear in our world today. We don’t need to make God one more thing to fear. Right? I think that’s the unspoken piece of this friend’s response.
But Jesus talks about fear. The wrong kind and the right kind.
“Momma. Momma.” I woke from a deep sleep. In the middle of the night.
Jenna, 6 or 7 years old at the time, was standing next to the bed. Pressing my arm.
Yes?
“I heard a voice. Like this…” her voice changed from sweet innocence to a guttural growl. “‘Jenna, I’m going to get you.’ And there were two red eyes. And he laughed like this…” It was an evil laugh.
I sat up straight in bed. On high alert. Heart pounding. Wide awake.
The journals come in all sizes. Most have survived extremes. Dust and drought. Mold and humidity. It shows.
They hold my life records. The common, daily occurrences of a cross-cultural life. The ongoing spiritual battle.
And the struggles of our children in the midst of it all.
Constant illnesses. Anxieties. Hurt. Fears.
In dust and drought. Mold and humidity.
