I've been trying to wrap my head around the apparent contradiction that we are supposed to somehow simultaneously fear not and be filled with the fear of the Lord. I get that just as there is a distinction between Godly sorrow and worldly sorrow, there is also a distinction between the fear of the Lord and the fear of man, but if fear is regarded almost universally as a negative emotion, the kind of thing that perfect love is supposed to cast out, then why call whatever “Godly fear” is supposed to be fear at all? More modern translations of scriptures might try to dance around this quandary by using words like reverence or awe or wonder, but if we are to assume that the Lord deliberately chose the word fear, then we have to ask why? What good can come from fear, even this special, all in its own class Godly fear? At the most basic level, fear is the emotional, physiological and/or behavioral response to a perceived threat. And if we want to get a little more specific, we might define a threat as a danger or harm to our sense of self. This is an important distinction because especially in our modern world where the threat of physical danger to our actual bodies is much lower, we nevertheless confront all kinds of dangers or perceived threats to our psychological well-being. It is with this context that it becomes a little easier to understand how and why we might be expected to feel a fear of God, the Being Who we are to regard as our loving Heavenly Father, working tirelessly to bring about our Earthly peace and joy and our eternal salvation and exaltation. After all, our Heavenly Father is the single greatest threat to our sense of self, and not just in the self destructive way of sinners in open rebellion “And whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken: but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder” (Matthew 21:44). In fact, our Heavenly Father actually represents a much greater threat to the sense of self of the righteous than of the wicked. “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it.” (Luke 9:24). If we were to truly look to God with an eye single to His glory, to try to truly comprehend the depth and height and vastness of His majesty and splendor, we would be forced to come to terms with our own nothingness. And if we tried to do that and still hold onto our sense of self, we would know a fear, dread, terror and horror so acute and intense and overwhelming that we would be driven mad. If we tried to save our own sense of self in the face of such majesty and glory, we would surely lose it. We would cower in fear. We would try to hide ourselves and our own nakedness and nothingness, even grabbing at the flimsiest of fig leaves to shield us from the awe and terror of such impossible and infinite brightness. However, if we just let go of our sense of self, then we can let go of the insane panic. There is no more danger to our sense of self because there is no more sense of self to be in danger. We have been swallowed up by the will of the Father. We still retain a sense of our Father's ultimate goodness and our ultimate nothingness, but it no longer distresses us because we are no longer like a single drop trying to face off against an entire ocean but rather we have added ourselves to that ocean. When there is still a sense of self for us to try and save, then we have to either fight or flee or freeze when confronted by something bigger and scarier than us. But if we willingly lose our sense of self in order to join with God, then we are no longer outside of God looking in and frightened out of our minds by how much bigger and stranger and more powerful and dangerous God is, but rather we are a part of that big, fear-inducing omnipotent force. We are “in” the fear of the Lord, part of that all-powerful source of goodness and light and truth that will grind into powder anything and everything that rejects it. When perfect love casts out fear, it does so by casting out our own tiny sense of self, our own nothingness, and our own pitiful need it desire to hold up the shriveled fig leaves of our self-will and self-interest so that we are filled instead with the peace and joy and love and awe and reverence and wonder and light and truth and wisdom and, yes, the non-selfish, Godly fear of the Lord.
