As my brother Mark wisely pointed out in his recent comments, we do need a certain level of caution to maintain order in our society. I don't agree, however, that we need to live in fear. My neighbor (the one with dementia) lives in near constant fear. She is afraid of darkness, afraid of storms, afraid of running out of food, afraid of intruders, afraid of pretty much everything. I am not. I lock my door against intruders because I have an understanding of what they could do to me and my children, but I don't generally fear them. I prepare for storms so that I'm not left stumbling around in the dark when the power goes out, but I'm not afraid. I am equipped, by experience and rational thinking, to have a healthy but calm respect for that which terrifies children and the insane. I see the way we relate to God much the same way.
For starters, the Hebrew has two words for that which we translate "fear." Pachad means "a terrified dread" (the state I lived in as a child, which I still occasionally sink into). This word is used in the Old Testament and in Revelations and refers to fear of our final judgment. Don't get me wrong. I do believe that we will all stand before God some day and give account for our choices. I don't take that lightly. But the price for our sins was paid for in Jesus. As he said himself, as he hung on the cross, "It is finished." Over. Done. The end. Paul adds to this in Romans 8 when he says, "There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus." And John says (in 1 John 4:17-18), "There is no fear in love, for perfect love casts out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love."
The other word that we translate "fear" is yirah. Rosemary Scott, in her excellent article The Fear of the Lord, defines this as "piety and reverence rather than abject terror." This is why, she says, some translations have chosen to use the word "revere" rather than fear. Anything more than that has to do with punishment and condemnation, which are obsolete in Christ.
For starters, the Hebrew has two words for that which we translate "fear." Pachad means "a terrified dread" (the state I lived in as a child, which I still occasionally sink into). This word is used in the Old Testament and in Revelations and refers to fear of our final judgment. Don't get me wrong. I do believe that we will all stand before God some day and give account for our choices. I don't take that lightly. But the price for our sins was paid for in Jesus. As he said himself, as he hung on the cross, "It is finished." Over. Done. The end. Paul adds to this in Romans 8 when he says, "There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus." And John says (in 1 John 4:17-18), "There is no fear in love, for perfect love casts out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love."
The other word that we translate "fear" is yirah. Rosemary Scott, in her excellent article The Fear of the Lord, defines this as "piety and reverence rather than abject terror." This is why, she says, some translations have chosen to use the word "revere" rather than fear. Anything more than that has to do with punishment and condemnation, which are obsolete in Christ.
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I don't think this blog was intended to become a discourse on our family history but since the can has been opened, I have a few words...
I realize that women are more predisposed to PTSD (according to WIKIPEDIA) than men but unless the 8 years before I joined the family were different, I have trouble picturing our family as a traumatic environment. Of the millions of families where kids are mis-treaded and abused and with all the horrific things people do to each other every day, I'd say we had it pretty good.
Mom and Dad rarely if ever argued in front of us. They didn't raise their voices. They didn't beat or chastise us or talk down to us. I never remember being worried of abandonment or physical harm or even that they would separate and get a divorce. And since this is this is a public website and not everyone who reads this grew up in our home, I think it's only fair to offer a view of our family from a different vantage point.
I remember parents who sacrificed of themselves to ensure we were cared for. I remember a family that felt like a family where we all gathered around the table for meals and no one fought. I remember taking trips and going places people only dream about. And I for one wouldn't trade it for anything.
It seems to me most everyone I know would fall under the category of having PTSD based on the description I read. Anxiety, insomnia, irritability, nightmares, numbness... Who hasn't experienced those? I don't think that just because someone experiences the symptoms of a disorder necessarily means they suffer from it. It's like knowing a baseball bat can break a window but not every broken window is caused by a baseball bat.
I'm not perfect (and Jo can attest to that). Not even close. But I can't blame anyone but myself for any area in which I fall short. Especially not our parents.
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