So, with the last ten years in mind, I had high hopes for turning 40. But then I hit a few bumps. I found the ‘getting older’ thing bothered me more than I’d like to admit. I began to panic that my best youth ministry days were behind me. I’d hoped I would have felt sorted by 40; instead I felt anxious.
Mostly I wondered why I haven’t learnt by now that perfect love drives out fear, as 1 John 4:18 promises. In his letter, John says that the root of anxiety is a fear of judgement. It’s the ‘imposter voice’ that tells us somehow, somewhere, someone will catch us out and we’ll be proved to be a fraud. It’s fed by the fear of never being good enough, of measuring ourselves against other people’s expectations and coming up short. It keeps us living in that place of scarcity, where nothing we do will ever be enough to make up for our shortcomings and failures.
I wonder if as youth workers we’re especially susceptible to this. So much emphasis is placed on success being defined by the number of young people in our churches or impacted by our programmes. We know we shouldn’t act as if we’re only as good as our attendance figures, but it’s hard not to believe the hype that bigger is automatically better.
So, John’s words ring so true for us; perfect love does drive out fear. He says it because he knows it. It’s such beautiful wisdom from someone whose confidence is based on loving God and walking in the fullness of knowing that they are, in turn, really loved by God. But we have to seek this out for ourselves; as Michel de Montaigne said: “We can be knowledgeable with other men’s knowledge, we cannot be wise with other men’s wisdom.”
Last November our family took a trip to the north coast of Ireland. One afternoon while Jason was napping (he had already turned 40 by this point and was milking it) I dragged our 3-year-old out for a bracing stroll. All was well until we turned the corner. Houses gave way to an open horizon and we were met by the full strength of gale-force winds pummelling the Causeway coastline.
I shoved my daughter behind me to stop her blowing away, and glared defiantly into the oncoming storm. It reminded me of that infamous “You shall not pass” scene in The lord of the rings, when Gandalf places himself between the Balrog and Frodo. It speaks to so many of us about those times we seek to stand in the gap for young people who are drowning in the storms of pain, rejection, addiction, abuse, despair. We recall stories of Jesus conquering the waves because they speak to us of the God who has defeated the one who would destroy humanity.
So, channelling my inner Gandalf, I shouted: “I’m not afraid of you. I’m loved by God and he stands in front of me. He takes the force of the blow. He shelters me. He fights for me. I don’t need to be afraid!” (I know. Crazy. But so liberating. You should try it!)
But for the rest of the day I was still restless. My pep talk hadn’t quite got rid of all of my anxiety. So later that evening I ventured out, alone in the dark, to the same spot. For a few breathless moments I flung my arms wide and gave in to the storm raging around me. I felt a weird mix of terror and peace. I suppose it was a moment of self-loss: knowing that I could be swept away. Knowing that nothing exists in me that can be hidden from a holy God, but also knowing that instead of being dragged down into death, I am being swept up in the waves of God’s infinite love.
In the times of stress and anxiety, when things don’t work out as we’d hoped, when we rock up and open up and still feel we’ve lost, we can take hold of God. His perfect and infinite love for us drives out fear and makes it possible for us to grow in confidence of who we are and how we are loved.
As a youth worker now entering her prime (40 is the new 28!) I’m determined more than ever to recognise the ups and downs of the journey I’ve been on and the insecurities I still have, so that I never forget to make Jesus my centre. I’m practising the art of plugging in to the God who knows, loves and transforms me.
Of course, this is easy to say but oh-so-tough to do. But, as with all seemingly impossible things, there’s a simple way forward: you do what’s possible and God does the impossible.
How do you eat an Elephant? One bite at a time.
How do you climb a mountain? One step at a time.
How do you mature in love? One storm at a time.
