Fear is all consuming—it hits you like a ball of fire, it’s instant like foil sparking in a microwave. It’s blinding—chilling—leaves you avoiding all sense of who you are.
Your gut allows time for you to analyze the situation. It’s a feeling that your foundation is at threat whereas fear is an avoidance of your foundation. Your gut collaborates with your brain. It allows it time to catch up. It’s patient at first but until you take notice it will continue to throb slowly, sending signals through your body to help wake up your mind.
If fear is the devil, then God is your gut. Your gut says, “I love you, but you need to get out.”
Fear has you out the door before you can even process what just happened.
Fear is gunfire; your gut is a cease-fire.
Your gut is knowingness. It doesn’t need a gunshot in the air to get your attention. It needs you to listen. It’s waiting for you to join it in silence. It’s calling you to stop what you’re doing and pay attention to the call.
It’s a vibrating cell phone at a loud dinner party that everyone begins to hear as each person falls silent. Someone is calling.
Your gut is calling you to remember who you are, what you are and what’s truly good for you…and what’s truly bad.
I’ve witnessed myself give in to fear with the people that I love, people that I know love me. I’ve run away from them triggered by the gunfire, lost in paralysis, flying high above the clouds just to fall back down steaming through the Earth’s core hard and thorough. I’ve found myself re-emerging from the wreckage, seeing all the destruction I caused and coming back to myself. These people love me. They didn’t mean to hurt me. I need to trust—I must choose to trust. I must choose love.
“Perceive with love, perceive with love.” I take a deep breath. I am back and know I love them and they love me. I didn’t mean to hurt them. I let the fear send me out the door. But I am back in love and I am back inside where I am safe with their love.
I thought that perhaps this is what I had done with someone else. I thought maybe my fear voice is what scared me away from them. Maybe they didn’t mean any harm—maybe they really love me and I was too scared to see it.
So I let them back in.
Now as I sit on my bed, I hear God saying, “I love you, but you need to get out.”
I am not jumping at gunfire and running out the door. I am taking a deep breath, allowing my gut to guide me back to love and staying in the presence of love all around me. That’s what will guide me out. Love and truth.
Now I finally recognize the difference between letting fear block you from love and allowing your gut to guide you back to love.
Fear has never served me, but my gut has served me every time.