The only mistake is not to risk making one.

Fear creates a form of spiritual amnesia

Fear never wrote a symphony or poem, negotiated a peace treaty, or cured a disease. Fear never pulled a family out of poverty or a country out of bigotry. Fear never saved a marriage or a business. Courage did that. Faith did that. People who refused to consult or cower to their timidities did that. But fear itself? Fear herds us into a prison and slams the doors. Wouldn't it be great to walk out?

Fear may fill our world, but it doesn't have to fill our hearts.

At the beginning of every act of faith, there is often a seed of fear.

Fear creates a form of spiritual amnesia. It dulls our miracle memory. It makes us forget what Jesus has done and how good God is.

The parched soil of fear needs steady rain.

God is always near us. Always for us. Always in us. We may forget him, but God will never forget us.

You wanted to know how you'll make it on your own?" Manny asked as the sights and sounds of the lush Jerusalem garden gave way to the sterile hospital chapel. "You'll never know. Because you never will be.

Lay claim to the nearness of God. Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you (Heb. 13.5 NIV).

When safety becomes our god, we worship the risk-free life. Can the safety lover do anything great? Can the risk-averse accomplish noble deeds? For God? For others? No. The fear-filled cannot love deeply. Love is risky. They cannot give to the poor. Benevolence has no guarantee of return. The fear-filled cannot dream wildly. What if their dreams sputter and fall from the sky? The worship of safety emasculates greatness. No wonder Jesus wages such a war against fear. His

When you see the torches and feel the betrayer's kiss, remember the Father's words: "I will never leave you; I will never abandon you."20