Fear not

That time I climbed Mount Sinai with my 19 year old nephew.

One of my essays appears today in the Reformed Journal…

I’ve been working this summer on a writing project, and an unexpected theme has emerged. Fear.

The book isn’t a memoir – not really – but it has lots of stories, and one of the recurring themes in those stories is how afraid I have been in certain situations over the years. How could I have lived so long and not been aware of so much fear?

I am a healthy, white male – and what my mother lovingly described as “big boned.” So, fear has not been something I think much about. Beyond my physical presence, I grew up in a safe suburban neighborhood, with lots of nice – by which I mean white – neighbors. I have always felt safe. I recognize, of course, that all of this was privilege. My life, from the beginning, has been safe and comfortable and – mostly – without fear. In those rare occasions when I have felt fear, it was always because I was taking a risk or, in my mind, simply having an adventure.

In the research for my writing project, I found that risk-taking behavior can be a product of both nature and nurture. Some of us grow up in families or have parents who are curious and love to explore and experience new things, and sometimes that rubs off on children. That is true of me, though I should note that my parents, being Christian Reformed, imposed some strict limits on their curiosity. In other words, I was raised to be curious but only to a point. [read more]

Photos: (above) That’s St. Catherine’s Monastery at the foot of Mount Sinai, one of several mountains that may have been the site of Moses receiving the law. (below) That’s the tiny Orthodox chapel at the top of the mountain.