What if “fear not” was never a command?

I remember sitting on the front row on a Sunday morning as the pastor began to expound on the sinful nature of fear. I could feel my own body tense as he progressed through his points — and I could most certainly feel the tension of the people around me. Because everybody dealt with fear. Everybody knew they couldn’t stop it.

Hours after the service had closed, I received texts from various friends:

”Do you agree with what he said?”

”I have a hard time with this…”

I shared my own thoughts — which I’ll share here. But the thing that stuck with me so profoundly was the sense of shame that settled over everyone: being told that something you can’t avoid is something that disappoints God.

That’s a heavy thing to carry.

The teaching and its fruit

I’ve been in more than a few churches where leaders taught that fear was a sin. They might have referenced God’s address to Abraham, or his declaration to Moses & Israel in the Exodus story; or maybe Isaiah’s exhortation in a context of collapse, or perhaps the strongest “command” we see in the New Testament where angels appear with their own expressions of “Fear not”.

With each instance I’ve heard it presented as God’s command to his people. And since it was a command, it would therefore be a sin to disobey. Specifically that if you experience fear in your life, you are living in sin; you are rebelling against God and his order. You are against his commands. You are displeasing to him as long as you have fear.

And the fruit of that teaching? Shame. Suppression. Hiding. People learning to perform some expression of pseudo-peace while their insides are in knots — because if they admitted they were afraid, they were admitting they were failing God.

What if we’ve gotten this wrong?

But what if we’ve gotten this wrong? What if these weren’t commands at all? What if they were something else far more congruent with — and revealing of — the nature of God?

Because biologically-speaking, fear is a core emotion — something you can’t just do away with. It’s one of the natural responses to things that we don’t understand or that overwhelm us — things that disrupt our very neurological wiring. It’s not a choice. It’s how our bodies were made by God.

So what if the command to fear not had nothing to do with right and wrong? Nothing to do with sinful behavior? Nothing to do with failure.

What if it was having to do with something else entirely? Something more like the response that comes from a place compassion and reassurance? What if it was more like a parent caring for their child, saying, “Hey… it’s okay. You don’t need to be scared. I’m here. I’m for you. I’m with you.”

What if it reflected goodness rather than control? A reminder that God is for us and with us rather than disappointed in our anxious response?

Modern brain science tells us that healthy attachment does not form in a context of fear. You can form unhealthy attachments in fear — attachments that create an identity rooted in something more like a shadow — something that isn’t really you, isn’t how God sees you, and that manages to devalue and chain you to shame.

But healthy attachment — the kind that genuinely transforms us in love — comes in a context where you know you are cared for, that you are loved, and that nothing you do could push you out of relationship.

If God made us this way — if he wired our brains to function like this — why would he then interact with us in ways that are incongruent and inconsistent with how he designed us?

Rules or relationship?

I think the reason “fear not” isn’t interpreted as compassion is that many, many Christians today don’t see the gospel — or the Godhead — as relational. They still see the gospel as a different set of rules for managed behavior. And they see God as a ruler more than a father.

Two views that Jesus heartily dismantled during his time on earth.

But what if the voice behind “fear not” was never a judge handing down a verdict?

What if it was always meant to reveal a Father pulling you close?