I’m certain that some of you will find this sentiment a bit odd. But it’s the way I feel. The other day, I was out in the yard and came inches away from a snake. My heart leapt into my throat, and my deep-seated fear of snakes gripped me instantly. That fear quickly transformed into anger, almost instinctively, as a defense mechanism. I grabbed whatever I could and chased the snake with a fierce determination, driven by the need to reclaim my space from the slithering intruder. In that moment, I was consumed by vengeance and anger.
But something shifted as I closed in. I could actually sense the snake’s fear—its movements became more frantic, its retreat more desperate. At one point, the snake actually attacked me. Suddenly, I wasn’t the only one afraid, but rather, I became the actual source of fear. Something about that realization hit me deeply. I didn’t want to be a creature that inspired terror, not even in a snake. I took a step back, letting my anger dissipate with the wind. At some point, the snake slithered away to safety, and I felt a quiet sense of understanding settle over me.
In that moment, I learned something about myself as it relates to fear and empathy. Even though I still strongly dislike snakes, I realized that life, in all its forms, prefers peace over conflict. I didn’t need to destroy or dominate to feel safe. I only needed to honor my own boundaries—and extend the same to the creatures that share my world. I believe the next time the snake and I encounter one another, the meeting will be different. At least it will be for me.
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” – 2 Timothy 1:7
Being About The Journey 