When Pain and Fear Become the Lens

We've talked about forgiveness.

We've talked about surrender.

We've talked about learning what belongs in our hands and what belongs in God's.

We've talked about grieving honestly when surrender doesn't immediately stop the hurt.

But eventually we have to ask another question:

What have pain and fear taught me to see?

Because pain doesn't only hurt. Sometimes it changes the way we interpret what happens next.

And fear does something similar.

Pain looks backward. This happened to me.

Fear looks forward. What if it happens again?

Pain remembers betrayal. Fear watches for the next one.

Pain remembers abandonment. Fear becomes insecure when someone feels distant.

Pain remembers losing something. Fear holds tighter to what remains.

Pain remembers being blindsided. Fear decides we need to anticipate everything so we're never caught unprepared again.

Pain remembers what it felt like to have no control. Fear convinces us that control will keep us safe next time.

And suddenly we're not responding only to what is happening today.

We're responding to yesterday's pain and tomorrow's possibilities at the same time.

That's a lot of weight to bring into one moment.

What We See Isn't Always What Is There

Have you ever put on tinted glasses?

Everything you're looking at is really there. But the lens changes the way you see it.

Pain and fear can do that too.

Someone doesn't answer. That's what actually happened.

But then our minds begin filling in the blanks.

They're ignoring me. They're angry. They're pulling away. I did something wrong. Something bad is about to happen.

One fact becomes an entire story.

And sometimes the person standing in front of us has no idea they're participating in a story that began before they ever arrived.

I've had to learn to ask myself:

What actually happened?

And what did I add to what happened?

Those aren't always the same thing.

Sometimes what we're reacting to isn't what happened. We're reacting to what happened before, or to what we're afraid this might mean.

Insecurity often lives here too.

What if I'm not enough? What if I'm rejected? What if I fail? What if I lose this? What if I'm misunderstood? What if I trust and regret it? What if I love and get hurt?

Insecurity can be fear asking us to protect ourselves from something that hasn't happened.

Our Reactions Can Make Sense and Still Need Healing

Maybe the way we respond makes complete sense when we understand what we've lived through.

Maybe shutting down once kept conflict from escalating. Maybe controlling details made an unpredictable situation feel safer. Maybe keeping people at a distance protected us from being hurt again. Maybe people pleasing once helped keep the peace. Maybe staying constantly prepared kept us from being blindsided.

There may be a reason we learned to respond that way.

Understanding the reason matters.

But understanding why something developed doesn't mean it should continue directing our lives.

Something can make sense and still need healing.

We don't have to condemn ourselves: What's wrong with me?

And we don't have to excuse everything: This is just how I am because of what happened to me.

We can say: Of course that affected me.

And also: I don't want it controlling me anymore.

Pain and Fear Can Tell Convincing Stories

Pain and fear don't usually announce themselves.

They sound reasonable.

Be careful. Don't trust them. Remember what happened last time. Protect yourself. Don't get too close. Don't let this happen again. Fix this now. Prepare for the worst.

Sometimes caution genuinely is wisdom. Sometimes something really is wrong. Sometimes God really is warning us.

That's why we don't ignore our emotions. But we also don't automatically obey them.

We bring them to God.

What actually happened? What am I feeling? What am I afraid this means? What does this remind me of? What do I actually know to be true? Lord, what are You showing me?

“Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:” Psalm 139:23 (KJV)

“And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” Psalm 139:24 (KJV)

Search me.

Not just them.

Me.

Emotions Give Us Information, but They Don't Have to Give Us Direction

Pain is real. Fear is real. Insecurity is real. Anger is real. Grief is real.

We don't need to shame ourselves for feeling them.

Our emotions can tell us: Something is happening inside me.

But that doesn't necessarily mean they're telling us: This is what I should do next.

That's where abiding matters.

We feel. We pause. We bring what we're feeling to Christ. We allow truth into the moment. Then we respond.

A trigger doesn't have to become an instruction.

Maybe it can become an invitation.

Lord, why did that affect me so strongly? What did that touch? What am I afraid of? Am I responding to what is happening now, or did today bump into yesterday? Am I reacting to something that happened, or something I'm afraid could happen?

Healing doesn't necessarily mean we stop having emotional reactions.

Sometimes healing creates a pause between what we feel and what we do.

Before, fear became control. Now fear becomes prayer.

Before, hurt became anger. Now hurt becomes an honest conversation.

Before, uncertainty became a story. Now we ask a question instead of assuming an answer.

That's growth.

The emotion still comes. But it doesn't automatically get the steering wheel.

Fear Can Make Us Fight Battles That Haven't Happened

Fear can also exhaust us by making us live tomorrow today.

What if this happens? What if they say this? What if something goes wrong? What if I lose this? What if I can't handle what comes next?

Before anything happens, we're already emotionally living through it.

Sometimes we call that being prepared. Sometimes it is.

But there's a difference.

Wisdom prepares for what we reasonably know.

Fear tries to control what we cannot know.

“Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.” Matthew 6:34 (KJV)

We don't have to fight tomorrow today.

And we don't have to make someone today pay for what someone else did yesterday.

Someone may have broken our trust. That doesn't mean everyone will.

Someone may have abandoned us. That doesn't mean everyone will leave.

Someone may have manipulated our vulnerability. That doesn't make vulnerability itself dangerous.

Discernment is wise.

But there's a difference between discernment and making someone continually prove they aren't someone they've never been.

We Have to Let Truth Correct the Story

Sometimes pain and fear teach us things that begin feeling like truth.

Everybody leaves. Nobody can be trusted. If I don't control this, everything will fall apart. If someone disagrees with me, they don't love me. If I need help, I'm weak. If I become vulnerable, I'll regret it. Something bad happened before, so something bad will probably happen again.

But restoration means allowing God's truth to challenge what pain and fear taught us.

“And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind...” Romans 12:2 (KJV)

Not everybody leaves.

Not everybody lies.

Conflict doesn't always mean abandonment.

A boundary doesn't always mean rejection.

Correction isn't always condemnation.

Vulnerability isn't always danger.

Forgiveness doesn't require foolishness.

And uncertainty doesn't automatically mean something bad is coming.

Sometimes healing means allowing God to teach us how to interpret life again.

Pain Remembers. Fear Predicts. Christ Leads.

Maybe this is the simplest way to remember it.

Pain remembers.

Fear predicts.

Christ leads.

Pain can tell us something about where we've been.

Fear can reveal something we're afraid of.

But neither one was meant to become our shepherd.

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me:” John 10:27 (KJV)

Healing doesn't require forgetting what happened.

Courage doesn't require never feeling afraid.

Maybe it means our memories and fears stop becoming the loudest voices directing our next step.

We can remember without assuming history must repeat itself. We can recognize danger without seeing danger everywhere. We can use wisdom without trying to control every outcome. We can feel fear without allowing fear to become our guide.

Pain may explain why I reacted.

Fear may explain why I want to protect myself.

But Christ determines how I respond.

Maybe that's another layer of surrender.

God, I'm not only giving You what happened.

I'm giving You what what happened taught me to expect.

And I'm giving You what I'm afraid will happen next.

I'm giving You the fear. The assumptions. The insecurities. The defenses. The stories I've been telling myself.

Show me what is wisdom. Show me what is fear. Show me what is true. Show me what needs to heal. And teach me to see clearly again.

Because restoration isn't only God healing what happened to us.

Sometimes restoration is God changing the way pain and fear taught us to see.

Reflection Questions

Has pain from my past become a lens through which I'm interpreting what is happening now?

Has fear about my future become a lens through which I'm interpreting today?

When I react strongly, can I pause and ask what it touched?

Am I responding to what actually happened, or to what I'm afraid it means?

Am I responding to the person in front of me, or to someone who hurt me before?

Are there fears I've been calling discernment without bringing them honestly before God?

What did pain teach me to believe?

What has fear taught me to expect?

Which of those beliefs agree with Scripture?

Which need to be surrendered?

Am I spending today's strength fighting something that hasn't happened?

Can I recognize places where healing has already created a pause between what I feel and how I respond?

And perhaps the question to carry with us:

Am I willing to let God heal not only what happened to me, but also what pain and fear taught me to see?

“Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:” Psalm 139:23 (KJV)

“And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” Psalm 139:24 (KJV)

“We love him, because he first loved us.” 1 John 4:19 (KJV)