There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. – 1 John 4:18
Fear is not just about punishment, John. Fear is also about being hurt. Fear is about taking a risk. Fear is about the unknown.
I fear punishment, of course. The pain is not just the harsh words, hard tones, spoken to me. I punish myself as well.
I fear as well the hurt that is not punishment, but comes from accident or malice done around me.
I fear to take a risk, of course, because, deserved or not, if risk turns into failure, I will feel the pain.
And I fear the unknown because who knows (I don’t) what dangers lurk for me, what hurts I’ll face and feel?
So John, I know that God is love, rejoice that God loves without fear. I live in love and fear. I fear I am not God.
A poem/prayer based on 1 John 4:7-21, the Revised Common Lectionary Second Reading for Year B, Fifth Sunday of Easter.
The fear of Joseph, who had failed to find a shelter proper for the birth.
The fear of Mary, who had never birthed a child before, nor known her body to take charge.
The fear of neighbors, who awoke to sounds of labor echoing.
The fear of stable owner, wondering if father’s stormy brow meant violence.
The fear of midwife, all experienced with healthy births – and infant deaths.
The fear of all, when mother’s screams went silent, and the universe was hushed.
The fear of mother, marveling to hold a newborn who would not be comforted.
The fear of angels, asking if a band of shepherds was their audience.
The fear of shepherds, so the messenger said first, “O do not be afraid.”
The fear of singers in the heavens’ choir, lest heaven’s song lack harmony.
The fear of watchmen at the gate, confronted by the shepherd band.
The fear of seekers for the infant Christ, uncertain where to find the stable bed.
The fear of parents, shocked to see the hillsides’ wanderers had come.
The fear of parents, hearing angels’ words, which would the fear of monarchs generate.
The fear of monarchs, which would bring no celebration, only tears like rain.
The fear of sleeping child. Who can know what infants know? And who can say what infant Jesus knew of dusty days and stormy seas and quiet conversations by the water’s edge, of questions over meals and by a paralytic’s cot and in the shadows of the night, of lepers leaping thanks unspoken save for one, of baptism and Satan’s snares and stories told and proverbs taught and so much more, and so much more, all leading to an agonizing cross and to a tear-swept joyful dawn.
A poem/prayer based on Luke 2:1-20, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Nativity of the Lord, Proper I.
Too many earthly shepherds flail with rod and staff; they maim and kill their flock, and leave the predators untouched.
My enemies enjoy the feast that I will never taste.
This is place from which I cry, “De profudis clamavi ad te!” “Mimma’amaqqim qeratika!” “Mai loko o na wahi hohonu, ua kahea aku au ia ‘oe!” “Out of the depths I cry to you!”
Reassure me with your implements of protection, Holy Shepherd, for the night is long. I am afraid. I turn my prayers to you.
A poem/prayer based on Psalm 23, the Revised Common Lectionary Psalm Reading for Year A, fourth Sunday of Easter, Good Shepherd Sunday.
ordainedgeek 
