FACE IT: DON'T RUN FROM IT

In the quiet corners of our lives, fears often lurk like shadows, growing larger the more we turn away from them. The ancient wisdom encapsulated in the idea that "if one hides from what one fears, it will eventually devour you" rings true across cultures, histories, and even modern science. This principle isn't just poetic. This principle serves as a call to action, encouraging us to confront our fears directly. Anyone who was bullied as a child will tell you that the bully would chase them if they ran. I remember, as a kid in middle school, there was a big guy with a little gang, and he was always trying to hem me up in a corner. He could not do it because I was young, wiry, and quick. This went on until one day I had enough. I quit running, walked straight up to him, and told him I was no longer running. He looked at me for a moment and then smiled and walked away. He never bothered me again.

One of the most profound illustrations of facing fears comes from scripture, where avoidance isn't an option for true healing. In the Book of Numbers, the Israelites, plagued by venomous snakes as divine punishment, are instructed by God through Moses to craft a bronze serpent and mount it on a pole. All those bitten needed to do was gaze upon it for healing (Numbers 21:4-9). This act of gazing at the very symbol of their torment, rather than running or hiding, brought salvation. And yet, there were those who were either too stubborn or too afraid to lift their eyes and look.

Jesus himself references this event in the Gospel of John, drawing a parallel to his own mission. He said, "Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in Him may have eternal life" (John 3:14-15). Here, Jesus teaches that facing the source of one's fear, which was embodied in the serpent, mirrors the redemptive power of confronting ultimate suffering. Jesus didn't shy away from his fate; though he prayed in Gethsemane for the cup to pass from him, acknowledging his dread ("My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" - Matthew 26:38), he recognized there was no alternative if he was to fulfill his purpose. By facing the cross, he not only conquered death but also modeled how embracing fear head-on leads to victory over it. Hiding would have left humanity devoured by sin. But, instead, confrontation brought redemption.

I love the study of neuroscience. I like investigating what goes on in the human body. After all, we are made in the image of God. I wonder what happens inside our heads when we force ourselves to face what terrifies us? Modern neuroscience sheds light on this, revealing that avoidance doesn't just preserve fear, it amplifies it. When we encounter a threat, the amygdala, our brain's fear center, lights up, triggering a cascade of stress hormones like cortisol that prepare us for fight-or-flight. If we hide or avoid, this response strengthens over time, creating neural pathways that make the fear more entrenched, potentially leading to chronic anxiety disorders.

When I had an office treating others using psychotherapy, I often used exposure therapy, a psychological technique rooted in facing fears directly. By repeatedly confronting the feared stimulus in a controlled way, the brain undergoes remarkable changes. The process leverages "inhibitory learning," in which the prefrontal cortex, the rational decision-making part of the brain, steps in to override the amygdala's panic signals, teaching us that the threat isn't as dangerous as it's perceived to be. Studies show this method leads to lasting reorganization of neural fear processing. Hippocampal responses to emotional stimuli decrease, and fear-extinction mechanisms kick in, essentially "unlearning" the fear. Extinction-related neural circuits become more active, fostering resilience and decreasing the likelihood of trauma deeply ingrained in memory. In essence, facing fears doesn't just build character. It rewires one's brain for courage, turning potential devourers into conquered foes. I told you I love neuroscience!

As you know by now, I also have an affinity for fantasy stories like Captain Hook and Peter Pan. Remember the ticking clock in the alligator that ate Hook's arm. Well, I like ancient myths as well because they tell a story associated with humanity. Those stories portray heroes who venture into the heart of darkness rather than letting it consume them from afar. One of the old ones is Theseus, the Athenian prince tasked with slaying the Minotaur, which was a monstrous half-man, half-bull that devoured the youths in King Minos' labyrinth. The Minotaur represents our deepest fears, hidden, maze-like, and insatiable. Theseus could have hidden behind Athens' walls, paying tribute to avoid confrontation, but that would have allowed the beast to devour his people indefinitely.

Instead, he entered the labyrinth, armed with a sword and a ball of thread from Ariadne to navigate the twists and turns. Facing the Minotaur directly, he slew it, emerging victorious. This act symbolizes that fears, when confronted in their own domain, lose their power. Hiding would have perpetuated the cycle of sacrifice. However, confronting it brought an end to the threat of devouring.

Also, in the epic poem of Beowulf, the hero confronted Grendel, a monstrous descendant of Cain who terrorized King Hrothgar's hall, Heorot, by night. Grendel embodies unchecked fear, raiding in darkness, and devouring warriors while they sleep. The Danes hid in fear, avoiding the hall after sunset, but their silence only emboldened the beast.

Beowulf, however, sails to their aid and waits unarmed in the hall, grappling with Grendel in a fierce battle. He tears off the monster's arm, forcing it to flee and die. Not content with mere survival, Beowulf later dives into Grendel's mother's lair to finish the lineage of terror. Upon returning, he brings Grendel's head back, nailing it over his mantle as a grisly trophy, a constant reminder that faced fears become symbols of strength, not destroyers. By confronting the monsters head-on, Beowulf transformed fear into legend, showing that avoidance feeds the beast, while direct action slays it.

Whether through the lifted serpent, the neural rewiring of exposure, Theseus' sword in the maze, or Beowulf's trophy on the wall, the message is clear. Hiding from fears allows them to grow and eventually consume us. But facing them, no matter how horrible they may seem, leads to healing, growth, and triumph. Jesus knew these truths on the road to Calvary. So, next time fear knocks, don't hide. Step forward and watch it shrink. After all, as the proverb reminds us, what we avoid devours us, but what we confront, we conquer. “The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are bold as a lion” (Proverbs 28:1).

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