All Old Fears Fade
by Donavon L Riley
Jesus Christ doesn’t call you to be some weary sentinel, standing guard against every creeping thing that slinks through your life. He knows you’re made of bone and breath, brittle as any man. Instead, He asks you to lift your eyes, to look fully at Him, to let yourself be drawn into the vastness of His mercy. He doesn’t need you to fill every crack, to shore up every weak spot. What He wants is simpler, far deeper—He wants you to let Him be your shelter, to trust that His mercy is the only fortress you’ll ever need.
When the tempter comes, as he will, with his slick whispers of despair or envy or whatever chain you’re used to, God doesn’t call for an all-out war. He doesn’t tell you to get down in the mud and wrestle with phantoms. Instead, He says, “Turn your face to Me.” There is no need for a fight because there is no contest when He is present. You don’t swat at shadows when your sight is set on the unshakable Truth of His Love. And when you pray, “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me,” you’re throwing open every door and window to let Him in, to let Him flood your life. His mercy doesn’t trickle in—it fills you to overflowing, casting out every hollow, haunting fear that’s lingered in the dim corners of your heart.
His way isn’t about grappling with ghosts or standing guard over every darkened place. It’s about inviting His presence into each hollow until there’s no room left for any intruder. His love moves through you, pressing against every inch of space until the cracks in your soul are no longer sites of weakness but reservoirs filled with His strength. He doesn’t fix you up piece by piece—He overshadows your whole being, fills you with Himself. And in this filling, the old, shadowed fears have nowhere left to rest.
And it’s not that Christ blinds you to the darkness around you, but He gives you a new sight—a sight trained on the Truth, on the brilliance of His mercy. He makes you into someone who can stand firm, not because you’ve built walls of your own, but because He has become your fortress. The world will come as it always does, with its shadows and specters, but it will find you no longer a trembling guard, but a soul rooted in the light of Christ. And so, instead of retreating into yourself, you become something stronger—a vessel filled to the brim with His Life, His Strength. In the end, it’s not the thickness of your walls but the depth of His grace that keeps you standing, bathed in the warmth of His mercy, where all old fears fade like mist in the morning.