I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.
During my second pregnancy, I went happily to my 20-week ultrasound and learned we were having another girl (the joys of pink!) and that she was healthy and developing well.
Except she was small. They said smaller than she should be and I’d need to go get a 3-D ultrasound at a specialized neonatal center. But, not to worry, they were sure it was okay. This was just to be safe.
One 3-D ultrasound later, the technician sent back the report. She was healthy. Good heart. Good blood flow. Organs just fine. But she was small. Too small. It was probably okay, but just to be safe I had to go for weekly stress tests for the remainder of the pregnancy and some more ultrasounds.
Every stress test was fine. She was moving (boy was she moving!) and she was growing, but not fast enough. She was just too small. But, no need to worry, they said, because she was probably just fine; it’s just that they needed to induce her a week early so they could figure out why she was so small (under 5 pounds they said) and help her grow outside the womb.
We packed a bag for the hospital and let the Pitocin get to work. Induction was terrible; the worst of my three deliveries. In the end, though, Lauren was born. I didn’t have my glasses on. I couldn’t see her. Was she okay? Was she too small? Was she in danger or sick or worse?
My husband served as my eyes for me. At first he said nothing; she was purple they told me later from the chord double-wrapped around her neck. But then she cried. And my husband said, “She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.”
The NICU pediatrician who had been on call to assist at the delivery of this at-risk baby peeked over the nurses’ shoulders and left the room without a word. The nurse laid her on the scale. She weighed 6 pounds 13 ounces, my one-week-early little one, too big for the preemie outfits we’d picked out for her. God had brought her to us safe, healthy, and gorgeous and we praised Him, so tearfully thankful for His protection over our baby girl.
Between that first announcement that our baby was too small and the moment we saw her, we fought against fear. My husband and I held hands and prayed for her each night. We calmed our fears and shrugged off ultrasound results. Then I’d sit at the next appointment and be told once again that she was just too small. All the anxiety we had kept at bay rushed in with renewed strength.
Someone asked me during that time, “You’re not freaked out about this, are you?”
I didn’t know. Was I freaked out? Was I okay? It wasn’t the same from day to day or minute by minute. I was fine. I was scared. I was trusting. I was fearful. I was relying on God. I was unbelieving.
At that time, Tim Hughes was singing on the radio:
When all around is fading, and nothing seems to last
When each day is filled with sorrow
Still I know with all my heart
He’s got the whole world in His hands
He’s got the whole world in His hands
I fear no evil, for You are with me
Strong to deliver, mighty to save
The whole world is nestled in the safety of His hands. My world that I saw every day. The world of my unborn baby girl, whose somersaults I could only envision and whose face I couldn’t wait to see. Yes, her world was in His hands, too, and so I had to trust her to His care.
Isaiah wrote: “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10).
For bills and jobs and relationships, for school, health, my kids’ friendships, safety and their faith, for my daughter not getting lost, for school bus rides and mean girls, for conflict, for things I forgot to do, for the decisions I make as a mom and how often I mess it all up, for the future, for the unseen, for the nosebleed that I’ve blown up into a brain tumor, for what’s happening tomorrow and what’s happening ten years from now, for the divorces I’ve witnessed and how did it all happen anyway, for the things I said and the things I didn’t say.
But when I’ve lost my breath because of worry and fretted over a solution only to find no visible answer, nothing I can do, and no way to fix the problem or avert disaster, then I remember hope.
Oh yes, now I remember hope.
Fear says, “There is no way out of this.”
Hope says, “God is going to make a way.”
Fear tells me “You’ve messed this up so badly there’s nothing that can fix it.”
Hope says, “I have a Redeemer who can heal and restore even what is dead.”
Fear whispers, “What you can see is all there is and that’s not enough.”
Hope shouts, “The Lord created the universe with His words. He can create something out of nothing.”
Fear argues, “You’ve been abandoned. God doesn’t even care that you are under attack.”
Hope assures me, “You are held in His hand, carried through hardship by His open palm.”
This world, my life, the daily schedule, the care of my children, the bills and the doctor’s appointments, and all there is remains outside my control. That’s why there is fear. It’s ridiculous pride and foolish unbelief that makes me believe God can’t possibly care for me and that I could do better on my own. So I worry because I’d like to control the uncontrollable.
Fear isn’t an enemy you defeat once and then mount on your wall like a trophy. It’s a sneaky foe, inching it’s way into your life at the slightest provocation. It creeps into your thoughts at night and asks to be your companion as 3:00 a.m. and then 4:00 ticks and tocks by on your nightstand alarm clock.
In the night as you rumple the covers with your constant turning, when the bill comes, when your child steps onto the school bus, when you sit in the doctor’s office, when the lawyer calls . . . remember hope. It’s the ultimate weapon in this battle against fear. We have hope because we’re in His hands and so is our whole world. Our kids in His hands. Our finances in His hands. Our jobs, our marriages, our friendships, our ministries, our careers, our future—in His hands.
We say with the Psalmist, “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Psalm 23:4).
Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader. Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness. To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.
Copyright © 2011 Heather King