Photo by Chris Knott

There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.

1 John 4:18

Living in Juarez has forced my eyes open, heightened my senses and toughened up my soft coddled comfort like I would never have dreamed. This desert is mean, sharp, brutal and relentless, and takes no prisoners.

I met the granddaddy of fear in Juarez, the one that is not afraid to show you who he is, to spit and scratch and lie and run at you with hate and death in his eyes and blood dripping from his fangs. I could not escape the relentless barrage of fear. Honestly, many times I would just lock myself behind my razor wire gate and barred doors and sit there alone in my self-made prison. I battled this vicious fear wielding the swords of hope and love, and I have gained much ground. I have discovered that fear is a powerless lie that can only grow if I feed it. That is why I was so taken off-guard by what happened upon our return to the safe comfort of the States. Right on my doorstep waiting for me like I’d never left was an old familiar friend of mine: fear, sitting there in a puddle of lies looking sweet and innocent.

I found myself growing more and more afraid of Juarez, believing the slanted truths displayed all over the news that I had so often scoffed at – anyone setting foot on that dusty ground will instantly die. I didn’t want to go back, I wanted to be safe.

What was I doing? Juarez is my home; I have lived there for nearly two years. I have walked in the market and played with the kids; I have stood in the streets and talked with my neighbors, I even live in the ‘bad’ neighborhood.

Then I realized the States is drenched in fear too, but American variety fear looks much different than the fear I battled in Juarez, it is conniving, much more difficult to see and easier to embrace. It plays so maliciously on my comforts. I had become controlled by it in my own attempts to control. But the outcome is the same, fear paralyzes and steals your soul. It is not safe here back in the States as I assumed; fear drips from the trees, we wade through it just to get to work in the mornings. And so I stand and fight, I take my sword and refuse to turn my back. I am preparing to re-enter the battle that is still raging for Juarez, but there is a battle here too, a battle for my spirit and my will. And now that I recognize what I am fighting, I will win.