It is a natural fact of basic physics that light and dark cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Light, in itself, is both particle and wave. However, the space that is occupied by a spectrum of light is not dually occupied by something which is categorically called the absence of light—darkness.
The same is true with faith and fear. The two cannot exist in the same heart at the same time. They may take turns from moment to moment, but one always wins out over the other at any given instant.
So where does fear come from?
“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind,” (2 Tim. 1:7).
Fear comes not from God, but from the imagination and cunning of the Adversary. Solomon called fear a snare (Prov. 29:25), one used by Satan to stunt our spiritual progression, and ‘interrupt [our] rejoicings’ (Alma 30:22). The only type of fear the Lord usually employs is fear of the consequences of sin which leads us to repentance, which, ironically, if it were not for Satan’s deceptions in the first place, there would be no need for God to employ it. This is why the prophets in every dispensation have been very honest and forthcoming about the consequences of sin. They, “did threaten the people… that if they did not keep the commandments, they should be destroyed. For they did prick their hearts with the word, continually stirring them up to repentance,” (Jarom 1:10, 12).
The times the Lord uses fear are usually sparse and he has given us the promise, “Whosoever belongeth to my church need not fear,” (D&C 10:55). This is defining “belong to the church” as those who are faithful in keeping the commandments.
But it is hard not to fear. In a world of terror, where do we find the peace that we seek? It is not that people of faith are somehow blind and unaware of what’s going on around them—oh no—in fact, I know of no other people that are acquainted with the ugly side of the world better than people who fight against it.
The peace we seek comes from a few words in the scriptures.
Confidence:
In English, the word confidence carries a similar ring to that of the word confirm. It also holds part of the root of fidelity. So confidence is the confirmation that our fidelity to God is acceptable to him, and that we can honestly stand before him knowing we have done our best. It also contains the firm resolve that one is capable, with God’s help, of doing hard things and overcoming large challenges. It is evident in the scriptures that confidence is contingent upon righteousness. “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly, and then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God,” (D&C 121:45). When we place our confidence in God, we are promised success. “For the LORD shall be thy confidence, and shall keep thy foot from being taken,” (Prov 3:26).
Courage:
Courage is the ability to conquer fear or unwaveringness in the face of fear. It is demonstrated in the scriptures and in the lives of the saints. One example is a group of young men faced with the task of saving their lands, countrymen, and religion.
“ …that never had I seen so great courage... For as I had ever called them my sons (for they were all of them very young) even so they said unto me: Father, behold our God is with us, and he will not suffer that we should fall; then let us go forth; we would not slay our brethren if they would let us alone; therefore let us go, lest they should overpower the army of Antipus. Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives; yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them. And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it,” (Alma 56:45-48).
The courage of these young men was above that of the grown men of society. The source of their courage was faith. Courage and confidence come from faith, are maintained by faith, and find their end together with the end of faith. In fact, in many languages, faith and confidence are the same word. These young men understood, because of their faith, a promise and protection that they may have read about for themselves: “Fear not, for they that be with us are more than they that be with them,” (2 Kings 6:16). There is nothing written in the scriptural record, but I like to imagine them, like Elisha, surrounded by unseen heavenly helpers in that battle as well, giving real testimony to the Savior’s promise, “I will fight your battles,” (D&C 105:14).
So it is with us as we move forward. We must look for the keys necessary for us to have the blessings of courage and confidence. “There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated-- And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated,” (D&C 130:20-21). Often times, we misunderstand this scripture. We think it is all about obeying specific commandments and receiving specific blessings. Certainly verse 21 points to that, but at the beginning, it talks about the key to all courage: A LAW—one law upon which all blessings we receive are predicated.
That law is faith in Jesus Christ. That is why it is the first principle of his gospel preparatory to the reception of every blessing.
Faith is an action. It is putting into action the hope that God is there, that he loves us, and that he gives us directions for our own good. Faith is manifest in obedience. As we obey, we receive faith as a “reward for personal righteousness.” As faith grows, so does our courage. We will find ourselves new people, doing and saying things in the confidence of he who sent us and whose instructions we are obeying. If you are afraid, obey the commandments, the counsel of the prophets, and the voice of the Holy Spirit who adapts them all to your personal circumstances; you will find courage you may never have thought you could have.
There is one more way in which fear is dispelled and courage enforced. It was spoken of by Christ when he outlined the 2 great commandments: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,” (Matt. 22:37-40).
When we think of a hero, we sometimes envision the brightly-colored tights wearing, masked characters of the silver screen. In these movies, the hero endures pain, suppresses fear and despair, and risks everything to save those they love, and sometimes those they don’t even know. Perhaps they took a page from Mosiah when it says of his sons, “They could not bear that any human soul should perish; yeah, even the very thought… did cause them to quake and tremble,” (Mosiah 28:3). These heroes endure much. There is one who “descended below them all,” but who now stands above us all. On a piece of paper with a leaky blue pen in Outer Mongolia, I wrote something that I think expresses how I feel. I’d like to share it:
I’d like to tell you about my hero.
I’ve never met him; I’ve never even seen his face.
Like the masked figures in a movie, his face was hidden from me, and before I could truly say ‘thank you’ in words, he was gone from sight just as every moment slips silently into the next.
I felt his embrace briefly as he grabbed me from the fire—but it has never left me, and he left something burning in my heart.
He was a King, and yet saw me in danger and came to rescue me.
In a dark hour, he descended, walked into the fires of death and hell before me enduring every burn, every scald until the fire was quenched—and after, he plunged into the dark, thick abyss below, beneath the suffocating pressure of a placed called ‘Olive Press.’
As I lay beaten, scalded, crushed, and panting, he fought my captor face to face, his only weapon a heavy block of wood and a few nails.
I watched him endure the wounds of that battle. I sat helplessly as he gave everything—all alone because all had forsaken him.
As I watched, I could not help but weep because I knew I was unworthy of such devotion. And when at last his enemy was slain, he looked up and declared, ‘It is finished.’
My bonds were loosed, but still I never saw his face for myself—only from a distance. He endured this all, because, as he said, ‘I love you—perfectly.’
As I ran from my chains, a note was left in the place he had fought saying, ‘As I have loved you… love one another.’
He loved me with a pure love called charity. All he asked of me was to love others perfectly as he had done.
He knew that if I could do that, I would not fear—I could be as brave as he was—for ‘perfect love casteth out all fear.’
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