The Lion Under My Bed

When I was a tiny little girl, there was a ferocious lion who lurked under my bed each night, waiting patiently to devour me if I so much as touched the floor.  The closet light sent spooky shadows across the walls. The wooden floor creaked.   And I dared not move.  Fear stopped me in my tracks.

I thought about that lion this morning.

I have needed to get a tooth of mine fixed for about six months.  I entertained my deepest fears of going back to the dentist to get the work done, indeed inviting those dark thoughts to move in.  And with them came their cousins, excuses of every size and shape.  "Not the right time," "It doesn't really matter," and of course, the big boy of them all, "That is going to inflict pain.  A LOT of pain."

Just about every day, I was going to call to schedule the appointment, but something conveniently popped up to distract me.  It didn't take much to avoid that dogfight.

A couple of weeks ago, I met my oldest brother for lunch.  He looked me in the eye and said, "Make the appointment.  Get it done," as only a big brother can do, like a "double-dare you" from our childhood.  I called the dental office the next morning.  I almost backed out when I read the fine print about the procedure which basically said that the dentist could do anything he wanted and not be held responsible, and by the way, there were dangers and risks involved that could be life-threatening.  Just sign here.  Oh, great.

I awoke this morning to 31 degrees and freezing rain.  When I arrived for my appointment, I told the doctor that I would have preferred running a marathon in that sleet than sitting in this chair.  "Oh," he smiled, "this will be a lot more fun."  Mad scientist or not, by that time, he had numbed my mouth and wielded what appeared to be a jackhammer for breaking up large blocks of concrete.  "Don't even think about what he is doing," I told myself.  I closed my eyes to shut out reality.  I kept waiting for sharp stabs of pain.  He used several noisy tools, one by one.  Get ready for the big one, I thought as I braced myself.  "Ok, we're done," he said.  What?  That wasn't so BAD.  And despite a half year of total fear, I. did. not. die.

Within an hour of arriving, I was pulling out of the parking lot.   I had wasted a LOT of time worrying about pain and agony that did not bother to show up for the appointment. 

Thinking about doing something is harder than actually doing it.  I have danced that number a few too many times in my life.

I have heard that the admonition "do not be afraid" (or its equivalent) appears 365 times in the Bible, enough for every day of the year    I have also realized that the foes and enemies mentioned in the Psalms can cover anyone or anything of which I am afraid, both real and imagined.

I could have slain that lion under my bed with a single prayer.  It was only fear with a big shadow and no teeth at all.  I often struggle with unnecessary monsters who cannot touch me.  We all do.  But God never meant us to go it alone without Him.

What part of  "no fear" do I not understand?  Forgetting that God is with me all the way.  

Even at the dentist. 


With God,
      we shall do valiantly;
it is He
      who will tread down our foes.
               
                         Psalm 60.12