““Do Not Be Afraid””

Sunday, June 15, 2025

Centuries after God’s forceful intervention allowed Israel to finally kick its idolatry habit, they had a new problem. Long past were the days of David and Solomon, who ruled not only Israel’s inherited lands, but most of their neighbors as well. Now they were oppressed by Rome, and even their supposedly native king Herod was really descended from Edomites. God had made promises to send David back to them and rekindle the old glory, but hope was wearing thin, and the old, bloated institutions seemed to be losing their relevance in the modern world. One day in the midst of this frustration, a nobody priest finally got his turn to perform the ritual incense offering during yet another hour of prayer, when an angel appeared to him in the temple’s holy place, terrifying the old man.

But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard…”

(Luke 1.13)

Months later, a young woman of a hated town in a hated region was looking forward to her marriage with a local carpenter. She was of the royal lineage, but it didn’t seem to be doing her much good. Her name was the same as seemingly every other young Jewish woman, and her fiancé, a simple carpenter, couldn’t be expected to raise her station in life much. She was a nobody from nowhere, utterly unimportant, until the same angel who’d spoken to Zechariah also confronted her, troubling her greatly (Lk 1.29). But he

said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.”

(Luke 1.30)

A few months later again, the carpenter discovered a problem—his fiancée was pregnant. He knew he couldn’t possibly be the child’s father, so he faced a dilemma. He genuinely cared for Mary. Discovering that she’d been unfaithful to him had not erased his love for her, but this was someone else’s child! The carpenter was another no one from nowhere, deeply conscious of his own royal lineage, but rather than becoming bitter over his family’s decline, he was a just and conscientious man. He’d been dealt a major blow when Mary could no longer hide her baby bump from him, but he decided to spare her as much shame as possible and initiate a quiet divorce. Then

an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife…”

(Matthew 1.20)

Thirty-some years later, some women got up early the day after Sabbath and went to visit a tomb occupied by the remains of a man recently executed. He was the child born of Mary and raised by Joseph. He had grown up, taken over the family business, then left it for a short career of public preaching, whose business model seemed to include accepting occasional donations, and then giving away far more than he ever received, in effort, time, and care as well as money. Against all odds he’d actually made quite a stir with the common people, and eventually had been recognized by the Jewish authorities as a threat to their status—so they killed him. A few women, more nobodies who’d been deeply affected by his teaching, wanted to show one last kindness to his memory—the completion of the burial rites that had been interrupted by the Sabbath. Instead of the body they sought, they found an angel with a terrifying appearance, but who

said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen…”

(Matthew 28.5-6)

Almost thirty more years had passed, when a political prisoner stood on a doomed ship surrounded by despairing men exhausted from several days vainly attempting to ride out a horrible storm on the Mediterranean Sea. His life hadn’t started out this way. He’d been the golden boy, smart as a whip, a rule-follower, a hard worker, with all the self-assurance of a well-maned lion. Due to his age he hadn’t yet risen to a real leadership post in Jerusalem, but he was clearly on his way. An unsentimental go-getter, he’d done every task given to him with zeal, and asked for more. Then, following a strange incident while traveling through the desert one day, it all changed. He traded honor for anonymity, going home to Tarsus, becoming a nobody. When he finally crawled back out of his hole, he was subjected to outright scorn. Former friends turned against him, even conspiring to kill him. He’d been arrested on trumped-up charges, imprisoned without a real trial for years, and now, finally on his way to force a verdict, even the common sailors and soldiers had ignored his warning and foolishly sailed off into this mess, leaving no hope for survival. But an angel appeared to the man,

and he said, “Do not be afraid, Paul; you must stand before Caesar…”

(Acts 27.24)

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It’s not that fear is never appropriate. It’s not even that God doesn’t want us to fear him—his word tells us directly, “Fear God” (1Pe 2.17). But while he wants us to regard him, respect him, and acknowledge his power to reward and punish, he doesn’t want fear to be the sum of our relationship. The better we know him, the better we see that his will is for our good, and that his goal is to empower us, not frighten us, “for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2Ti 1.7). When we surrender to God, we find his fearsomeness a comfort. Because of it, we have no reason to fear the dangers of this world. In fact, if we’re on God’s side, our enemies should be afraid of us!

The Lord is my light and my salvation;

        whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life;

        of whom shall I be afraid?

(Psalm 27.1)

Jeremy Nettles

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