Last Summer I went to Paris.

Until last week, that was a happy phrase,
conjuring up images of romance and croissants and the river Seine leading you everywhere you want to be.
paris- boat
Heck, I even filled a blog about those images.

But last week those images changed- to smoke filled streets, two large explosions, and innocent victims walking with their hands behind their heads.
Victims turned suspects because of a war with an enemy we cannot see.

When you’re fighting an enemy you cannot see, it’s hard not to become fearful.
Even downright scared.

The irony is that your fear has more power than your enemy.
And it can beat you without your enemy even needing to show up.
It keeps you locked up, bound away, and small. Which is exactly where the enemy wants you to be.
I know this because there is another enemy who operates the same way.

“Fear over faith”, he whispers, chilling our bones.
“Faith over fear” we shout back, standing on the empty grave.

The grave of the One who took our fear and smashed it.
And gave us the power to do the same.

So we could face our fears
of unknown enemies.
Terrorist bombs.
Even Death.
And move forward in the freedom of faith’s promise.

That it grows as it is acted upon.

So does fear.

Choose faith.

grunge image of a field