The cart sat just outside the hospital room, filled with bright yellow paper gowns that each of us had to don along with masks and gloves before we could enter. As an ICU nurse, I took great caution with these patients on “contact isolation.” That cart signified they had a highly contagious bacteria that I needed to protect myself from. I covered myself to keep from getting infected or spreading it to others.

I thought about those paper gowns a few weeks ago when my husband was sharing stories from his life just before we met. He was in a small town, working full time, and living in a dark apartment his friends nicknamed “the dungeon.” To make matters worse, the small beach town where he lived went from bustling with life in the summer to deserted and desolate in the winter.

He spoke of how difficult that season was for him spiritually and emotionally. Then he shrugged his broad shoulders and spoke the hard truth he’d learned: “Isolation breeds depression.”

When we are left alone and isolated, there’s nothing to stop our dark infectious thoughts. They breed and fester when left unattended.

The opposite is also true: healthy vibrant relationships breed hope. And hope is contagious. 

Communities full of joy and hope are contagious. When we come in contact with other believers who have encountered hardship and who continue to trust the Lord, we are inspired to do the same. We become infected with hope. 

“And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.” Romans 5:5

My friend Ellen just recently moved to town. We’d worked together at the hospital a few years back in a different city often donning those yellow paper gowns, and now we found ourselves gladly together again. She messaged me this last weekend and asked if we could get together and go for a walk. We strolled and talked, then when we got back to my house, she came in and stayed. She stayed through my toddlers’ needy afternoon snack hour, then through dinner, and only left shortly after I put the kids to bed. My extroverted heart was so full. 

She shared some truly personal things about her family history and how it has affected her present day. I thanked her for trusting me to tell me. It’s a treasure when friends are open about deep things. Toward the end of our time together I remarked how glad I was that she had come over, and she said, “I didn’t want to have to get dressed up, or spend money on dinner, or go to some event to be with friends. Today I needed a couch friend.”

I needed a couch friend.

She needed to feel accepted just as she was, uncovered by a yellow paper gown. Not fancy, just sweatpants and her whole heart. 

We find hope in places like this. Places where we are known and still loved. We are vulnerable and still safe and secure. 

If we are longing to grow deep roots in the Lord, community is the necessary soil our hearts need to thrive. 

Ellen understands this truth. Even as an introvert, she knows she’s created in the image of God who is a relational God. She is, by human nature, relational, and needs friendship and community to thrive. She and her husband have been intentional in their short time in town so far to cultivate life-giving relationships. 

But…sometimes this requires risk. She had to message me and ask to hang out. I could’ve said no. I could’ve rushed her out of the house and made her feel like an inconvenience. I could’ve rebuffed when she shared her heart with me and wounded her. But she risked that anyway. 

Relationships require risk. Healthy relationships grow trust in spite of the risk and become a place of safety, but starting at ground zero can be a scary place. Let’s take that risk anyway. Let’s reach out and be intentional to cultivate friendships. Let’s be the one who suggests to hang out. Let’s also be the one whose couch is a safe place. Let’s have open hearts to those who are different than us. Let’s help others feel welcome just as they are. Let’s be couch friends.

Sarah and I were strolling the cobblestone sidewalk, enjoying the sunshine by the waterfront, when she saw the birds. A flock of pigeons had gathered at the other end of the sidewalk, pecking and squawking. In her 3-year-old mind, it was, in fact, the end of the world.

She began wailing at the top of her little lungs, tears streaming down her cheeks in full blown panic. 

“It’s okay.” I told her in my soothing voice. “They’re not going to bother us!” 

I was sure she was worried they would fly near us and pester her or worse, steal her snacks. But I pressed in to ask, “Why are you afraid of the birds, Sarah?” And she told me her reality.

“They’re going to EAT MEEEEE!” she wailed. 

I knew full well these birds wouldn’t eat her and that it was irrational to believe so, but in her little world that was the only reality. She was frozen in fear, her feet glued to the stony ground.

“Come on,” I beckoned, “Let’s go the other way.” Her breaths were still coming rapidly and the tears falling freely, but she stopped a moment and took a deep breath. And then, I watched her do a remarkable thing. She spoke truth to herself.

“I’m safe,” she said aloud. And then she began to walk.

Fears of any size can paralyze us. No matter how irrational, when anxiety rears its ugly head we believe it may just gobble us up. Fear has real repercussions on our physical bodies, often causing us to breathe faster, our heart rate to rise, our vessels to constrict, and our glands to pour sweat. It can even cause lightheadedness and nausea. 

How interesting that a belief in the mind can so dramatically affect our physical bodies. I saw it firsthand in Sarah that day as she froze in panic.

These physical symptoms begin by encountering a fear and believing a lie behind it.

Personally, I often find myself fearing the unknown, anxiety rising when I sense something is out of my control. Why? I believe the lie that it’s all up to me. 

Maybe for you it’s a different lie. It could be a lie of regret: “If only I had…” Or one of shame: “I’ll never be able to…” Or fear of loss: “I could never survive if…”

There are several reasons we are not supposed to live in fear. The first is that it distorts our reality. 

When we live in fear, we live as though the feared thing is reality.

We are already living, either mentally or even physically, with the consequences as though the feared thing has happened.

The second reason we aren’t supposed to live in fear: it’s a command.

Isaiah 41:10 says, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Jesus commanded us not to live in fear, and not to let anxiety and worry plague our days. 

He said in Matthew 6:34, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

It hit me recently why we are not supposed to worry about tomorrow. Lamentations 3:23 says that the Lord gives us new mercies every morning. We aren’t supposed to worry about tomorrow because we don’t have the grace and mercy yet for tomorrow! We will get the mercy for each day on that day. What a neat thought. The Lord will prepare us each day for what that day brings.

The last reason we aren’t supposed to worry and live in fear is that it doesn’t work!

The Word says that trusting in the Lord and keeping our eyes on Him is what truly works to steady our days and still our anxious hearts.

Isaiah 26:3 (NLT) “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!”

Psalm 118:6-7 “The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.  What can man do to me?  The Lord is with me; he is my helper.”

Let’s commit today, friends, to hand our worries and fears to the Lord. Let’s ask Him what He has for us and who He wants to be to us today. He meets every need and fills every longing. We need only ask. His truth will minister to those places of fear in our hearts and minds and root us in the very real and true reality of His goodness to us.