When Fear Drowns Out Faith

Driving across the eastern Colorado plains during a dry season reveals an interesting phenomenon. In the midst of brown, parched grass, you can trace the path of a creek by following the line of green trees and bushes meandering across the landscape. These trees thrive while everything around them withers, their roots reaching deep into the life-giving water below.

The prophet Jeremiah captured this image beautifully: "Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought."

What gives these trees their resilience? Deep roots. Well-nourished roots that tap into a constant source of life. The Psalmist connects this same image to God's Word, describing the blessed person as one who delights in the law of the Lord and meditates on it day and night. That person "will be like a tree planted by the streams of water."

But what happens when fear cuts off those roots? What happens when trepidation—that anxiety about what might happen—replaces trust in God?

The story of Jacob and his sons in Genesis 43 provides a masterclass in how trepidation operates in our lives. The famine was severe. Jacob's family needed food. His sons had already made one trip to Egypt to buy grain, but the Egyptian official—whom they didn't recognize as their long-lost brother Joseph—had demanded they bring their youngest brother Benjamin on their return trip.

Jacob was terrified. Not of the present situation, but of what might happen. That's the essence of trepidation: it's not a real fear but a concocted one, built in our minds about possibilities that haven't materialized.

Real situations can quickly morph into fear of what those situations might become. The brothers faced a genuine famine, but their anxiety transformed into fear of the Egyptian official, fear of losing Benjamin, fear of consequences for money mysteriously returned in their grain sacks.

First, trepidation comes easy when life doesn't. Difficulty in one area of life often spreads fear into other areas. The brothers' anxiety about the famine morphed into fear about Joseph, about Benjamin, about what God might be doing to them.

Second, trepidation casts blame. Jacob blamed his sons for telling the Egyptian official about Benjamin. The sons blamed "the man" for creating this impossible situation. Fear of what might happen makes us suspicious of those who could make it happen, putting enormous strain on relationships. Ultimately, they were all blaming God. When the brothers discovered money in their sacks, they asked, "What is this that God has done to us?" Remarkably, this was the only mention of God these brothers made throughout this entire ordeal—and it was an accusation, not a statement of faith.

Third, sometimes God brings us to places of fear so we will turn to Him. Jacob finally capitulated, saying, "May God Almighty grant you mercy before the man." It wasn't a bold statement of faith—it was half-hearted faith from a reluctant heart, a last resort when human options ran out. But it was still a seed of faith. Like the Israelites trapped between Pharaoh's army and the Red Sea, sometimes God leads us to places where there seems no hope, so we will finally cry out to Him.

Fourth, trepidation brings out guilt, even from the past. When the brothers stood before Joseph the first time, they immediately connected their present trouble to something that happened seventeen years earlier: "Surely we are being punished because of our brother." Old guilt, real or imagined, resurfaces when we're anxious about the future.

Fifth, trepidation grasps at anything to avoid the feared event. The brothers spoke to Joseph's steward—likely a slave with no authority over their situation—desperately explaining about the money in their sacks. When we're afraid, we'll grasp at any straw that might provide relief.

Sixth, and perhaps most tragically, trepidation keeps us from seeing God at work. Joseph remembered his brothers among thousands of foreign visitors. He asked about their father and their youngest brother. He seated them in perfect birth order. He showed them honor and kindness. His steward used the Hebrew word "shalom"—peace—and told them, "Your God, the God of your father, has put treasure in your sacks." Every sign pointed to God's hand at work, yet they missed it all because fear blinded them.

Here's the beautiful truth woven throughout this story: God was gracious to them anyway. Despite their fear, despite their lack of faith, despite their inability to see His hand, God continued to work. Joseph—a picture of God's grace—treated his brothers with compassion, met their needs, honored them, and prepared a feast for them.

The steward's response is particularly striking. This Egyptian slave, raised in a culture of many gods, pointed these Hebrew men back to their own God. "Peace to you. Do not be afraid. Your God, the God of your father, has put treasure in your sacks." It was the first mention of God in these chapters that didn't come from a heart of fear. Sometimes God uses the most unexpected voices to remind us of His peace.

In the New Testament, Jesus directly addresses our tendency toward trepidation: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

In the Sermon on the Mount, He commanded, "Do not be anxious about tomorrow." The context matters: "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well."

Paul echoed this in Philippians: "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
Notice where this peace comes from: Jesus' words. The peace that passes understanding flows from knowing Him through His Word. Those deep roots by the stream that sustain us through drought? They grow as we delight in and meditate on God's Word.

Like those trees by the creek, thriving green in the midst of drought, we can flourish even when circumstances are difficult. But it requires deep roots—roots that come from trusting God and immersing ourselves in His Word.

What fears and anxieties are you carrying today? What trepidation about tomorrow is robbing you of peace right now? The invitation is simple: bring those fears to Jesus. Confess your tendency to be anxious about what might happen. Then open His Word and let His peace flood your life.

God is still God, even in our fear and trepidation. He still rules. He still cares. He still works. And He offers us peace that passes all understanding—peace that holds us when we're broken, peace that sustains us when the whole world seems to be crashing down.

That's a truth we can fully trust.

Choose ONE of the following to practice this week:

1. Scripture Meditation: Select one of the peace passages from the sermon (John 14:27, Matthew 6:33-34, or Philippians 4:6-7). Write it on a card and read it morning and evening, letting it sink deep into your heart.
2. Fear Inventory: Make a list of your current fears and trepidations. Next to each one, write a truth about God's character that counters that fear (Example: Fear of provision → God is Jehovah Jireh, my provider).
3. Confession & Prayer: Following Philippians 4:6-7, practice bringing your anxieties to God in prayer each day. Be specific about what you're anxious about, then intentionally thank God for His faithfulness.
4. Looking for God: Keep a journal this week noting where you see God at work in your circumstances—especially the small things you might normally overlook.