I’m amazed at how fear can constantly raise its head in different guises. Like Whack-a-mole, you clonk a fear mole of rejection, and a little fear mole dressed as change pops up. You whack the fear mole of the future, and up pops the fear of conflict or provision, or significance.
Sometimes trepidation needs a little inspiration to encourage us when the moles seem persistent. So, here are a few resources on Fearless Friday:
Years ago we were living in Washington D.C. You know…the city where everyone is someone and power is capital.
I was young, and I had two children under the age of two. I was sleep-deprived. And I don’t really “do” politics. I can’t name all the justices of the Supreme Court. I was about a year behind with most current events (I was currently un-current). And did I mention I was young?
John and I were invited to a party in Kenwood around someone’s pool at a big, fancy home with a park-like yard. Great! I love people and I love beautiful homes and I love parties (even sleep-deprived). And if I’m outside, all the better.
It was a delightful kid-free time, and I spent a long chunk of it chatting with a very nice distinguished-looking man by the pool. I can’t remember what we talked about, but it certainly wasn’t world affairs.
Afterwards, as John and I were driving home and this was our conversation.
John: Laura do you KNOW who you were talking to back there?
This weekend I had the privilege of guest posting on the Willow Creek Association blog. If you’re a ministry leader you may want to check it out here, and take a look at their other resources!
As I write this it’s Easter morning. Gray, and ugly as most Easters are in Minneapolis. At least it’s not snowing like it has many years.
It’s a little hard to exuberantly declare “He is risen!” when the depressing surroundings aren’t in sync with the joy of the resurrection. Like Minneapolis didn’t get the memo to put on its Easter finery with bright spring tulips and sunshine and green grass. Instead we’re still in the death shroud of dirty snow.
We kiddingly say “Jesus may rise, but in Minneapolis He’s probably like the groundhog – tempted to go back in the grave for six more weeks and come out when the snow has finally melted.” I know. We probably shouldn’t joke about something as sacred as the resurrection. But it’s been a very long winter, so give us a little grace please.
This morning I sat down at Starbucks at my table next to the fireplace with Phillip. He’s like Norm of Cheers, friendly and fun. Except that he’s tall and he’s from England. He’s here every morning at 5:00. He knows everyone and chats with all.
Today he wanted to talk about God and church and how he didn’t think God could love him. And I wanted to listen.
Underneath the jovial facade, what I heard was fear. A fear that all of us have if we’re honest. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of not having a place in community where he would be loved and accepted.
Yesterday I got a call from a young friend trying to make a big decision.
And he said “God told me…” a bunch of times throughout the conversation.
I squirmed and felt just a tiny bit uncomfortable as I listened.
I’m not crazy about that phrase. Not because I don’t think God “speaks”, but because 99% the time when I hear those particular words, what “God tells” the person seems to be rationalizing something they really, really already want to do.
The other day I prayed a lot.
But not at all.
Not really.
I journalled thoughts kind of aimed at God like a wad of paper flipped haphazardly over my shoulder towards the trash can.
I repeated the words of the Lord’s Prayer in church along with everyone else. Really fast like in a race.
It’s Fearless Friday and one of my favorite people in the world graciously agreed to guest post! I know you’ll be blessed by these thoughts from my talented friend Sharon Sampson. She’s the Director of Communications at our church (Christ Presbyterian Church, Edina) and this year has started her own consulting business called Open Book Communications
There’s an old Stephen Sondheim song I like called “Anyone Can Whistle” because it points to how fear tends to work its way into my life. In the song, a seemingly strong, capable woman sings this:
“Anyone can whistle,
That’s what they say — easy.
Anyone can whistle
Any old day — easy.
It’s all so simple:
Relax, let go, let fly.
So someone tell me why
Can’t I?”
There’s a fire in the kitchen fireplace and candles are still flickering, empty wine glasses wait to be washed and crumbs are on the wooden countertop – evidence of hastily bagged leftovers I urged friends to take as they wrestled into coats and boots to head home after our dinner together.
It’s 9:15 and John’s not home yet, and the snow is piled high outside my window. The serving platters are empty, but I am full.
Here’s what I did. Remember my little group of women than God totally orchestrated and drew together around what we thought would be a book study and then it ended up being about so, so much more? A young single, a personal trainer/professional cheerleader, a stay-at-home mom, a social worker, a pre-school teacher…But “titles” are deceiving! Well, that’s the group that came over for dinner on a Wednesday night recently. Shauna’s new book, Bread and Wine was our excuse for gathering.
Heather, who’s newly engaged and also a fan of Shauna’s writing, made the Bacon Wrapped Dates and the Dark Chocolate Sea Salted Butter Toffee, and I made the the Green Well Salad, and Risotto because I never had and we have one gluten-free gal and I knew everyone would forgive me if it didn’t turn out.
Before the evening arrived I asked my friends to think about a question from Shauna’s chapter, “Enough” – Have you ever longed for something? What helped you through that season of longing? What are things that prompt discontent in you?”
We all (except maybe Heather) loved the bacon wrapped dates, and those who are Risotto vets kindly said I did it “right”. We over-dressed the salad, and never got around to talking about the specific question I had thrown out, but none of that really matters, like what you watched on T.V. last night doesn’t really matter.
What matters is how we hugged and laughed and said what’s important. We oohed and ahhed over Heather’s new engagement details. We celebrated with Molly who was leaving the next day to visit her daughter who’s studying in Italy, and we looked into the eyes of another asking about the Hard Thing.
What do you long for?
We never asked that question, but we answered it with our hearts and eyes and ears all night.
Isn’t “community” one of the answers we’d all give? I love the way Shauna writes of this:
“We don’t come to the table to fight or to defend. We don’t come to prove or to conquer, to draw lines in the sand or to stir up trouble. We come to the table because our hunger brings us there. We come with a need, with fragility, with an admission of our humanity…The table is the place where the doing stops, the trying stops, the masks are removed, and we allow ourselves to be nourished, like children…Come to the table.”
This coming to the table takes courage, but like our little band of intrepid women and our couples’ covenant group, and the families we’ve done life with over the past 25 years have discovered, it is the place where God serves up true soul food and your longings are met in Him and through His people.
Come to the table indeed.
First, a Disclaimer: I was totally predisposed to love Bread and Wine, Shauna Niequist’s newest book, coming out in a couple weeks.
Shauna’s mom is a dear friend of mine. And Shauna’s faith journey has been similar to one of my daughter’s so she’s the one I sent desperate emails to, begging for advice during a clueless season of parenting.
Also, I’m crazy about Cold Tangerines and Bittersweet – her first two books – which I think are lovely and insightful. Her just-right word pictures and conversational style and authenticity inspire me as a writer. In fact I love her writing so much that I have this uber paranoia that someday I’m going to write something and it’s going to inadvertently be a phrase she wrote that I liked and swirled around in my brain so much that eventually I thought it was mine. And she’ll call, and be like, “Uh, Laura…” and I’ll be mortified.
So, with that disclaimer out of the way, let me say that Bread and Wine is totally wonderful, but a little different. It is a collection of essays about the meals that draw us together and what they can teach us. Included with almost every chapter is a recipe.
What is different is that it is a smidge more of a food writer’s book than I expected, but don’t let that deter you. The warm and honest Shauna who reflects on faith and not being perfect comes through. I definitely think you should buy the book and savor it and throw a party or a shower. Or bless someone with a pan of “Annette’s Enchilada’s”.
Many will read Bread and Wine, and as they do, breathe a sigh of “Oh, Phew! I’m not the only one!” as Shauna revisits some of the pain she’s written about in her first two books. Her authenticity is what draws readers in. It’s a gift.
However there are also many, many lists of friends and food – a devoted community gathered around lovely meals. You may read this book and be tempted to think, “Oh, I love Shauna! I want her life! But I will never have friends like that or meals that flow so naturally with laughter and meaningful conversation!”
Don’t.
Don’t go there.
Be inspired, but don’t let this book suck you into a comparison game that leaves you feeling like you can only truly exist vicariously through a hip young mama with a life lived large.
Instead, do what Shauna suggests, and celebrate your own. Use it as a chance to gather some old friends (or invite some new ones) together and crowd into the kitchen, and try out some recipes.
“Here’s what I want you to do: I want you to tell someone you love them and dinner’s at six. I want you to throw open your front door and welcome the people you love into the inevitable mess with hugs and laughter.”
If you’re not a foodie (or even if you are) don’t take yourself too seriously. If you get it wrong, be prepared to laugh and figure it’s a good story you’ll tell someday.
If you are a foodie (or even if you’re not), remember it’s not about the food primarily. The recipes are wonderful, but they’re an excuse and a putter-at-easer…a means to creating a nurturing space conducive to community. So be intentional. Make it about more than food. Use the discussion questions at the back of the book or make up your own.
I’ll share Wednesday about what happened around my table…
Our family is one of list-makers. We love them. To-do lists of course, but also pro/con lists, goal lists, grocery lists…
And I’m thinking a “Do not fear” list would be a good one.
The list of verses in the Bible that have the phrase, “Do not fear…” is a long one. The longest in fact.
But so what?
The important part is what comes next. Why in the world should we just obey that command willy nilly?
God is with you.
God is with you.
God is with you!
But who is the God who is with us?
“What comes to mind when you think about God is the most important thing about you.”
© 2026 Laura Crosby
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
