“Fear imagines everything falling apart. Faith imagines Jesus holding it together.” — Anonymous

Fear doesn’t just stir emotion; it distorts perception. When we’re anxious, our vision is blurred like fog on a windshield, making it near impossible to see reality clearly. We peer through trembling lenses, and the world — or our lives — looks darker, more threatening, and more hopeless than it truly is. The Psalmist knew this intimately: “My eye wastes away because of grief; it grows weak because of all my foes” (Psalm 6:7). David wasn’t merely tired. His prolonged sorrow and fear had physically and spiritually worn him down. Grief consumed his sight, turning his gaze inward to pain and outward to enemies, until he could scarcely see God’s mercy anymore.

But the deeper issue isn’t only blurred vision — it’s redirected gaze. What we fix our eyes on is often the difference between whether we rise or sink.

Consider Peter in one dramatic moment in Matthew 14. After feeding the 5,000, Jesus sent His disciples onward by boat while He prayed alone on the mountain. In the early morning hours, a fierce storm battered their vessel. Then, impossibly, Jesus approached by walking on the water. The disciples, already exhausted and terrified, cried out, thinking He was a ghost.

We see fear creeping in.

Jesus immediately reassured them: “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid” (v. 27). Bold and impulsive Peter seized the moment. “Lord,” he said, “if it’s you, command me to come to you on the water” (v. 28). Jesus simply said, “Come.” So, Peter did. He stepped out of the boat and walked on water toward Jesus — an astonishing act of faith. For those few steps, Peter defied physics because his eyes were locked on Christ.

Perhaps faith had won? Not quite. In a flash, the miracle shifted at the exact moment Peter’s focus did. “But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me’” (v. 30).

Notice the sequence: he saw the wind (not just felt it), fear flooded in, and sinking followed. Peter didn’t sink because the storm grew worse suddenly. Rather, he sank because his attention moved from the Savior to the storm. The wind had been boisterous all along, but when Peter’s gaze was fixed on Jesus, he walked above it. When he redirected his eyes to the threat? Fear took over, and gravity reclaimed his spirit. Of course, Jesus didn’t let him drown. He immediately reached out, caught Peter, and gently rebuked him. “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” (v. 31). Then, as they climbed back into the boat, the wind ceased. The disciples worshiped, declaring, “Truly you are the Son of God” (v. 33).

Peter’s experience isn’t just a dramatic sea story. When we really take time to examine it, we realize we’re looking into a mirror. We all step out in faith at times, only to let fear redirect our gaze. We start looking at the “wind” in our lives — bills piling up, diagnoses, broken relationships, global chaos, personal failures, you name it. Suddenly, we’re sinking under the weight of what we see. We start to crumble under the pressure of an imperfect life in an imperfect world. Fear whispers that everything is falling apart, and the worst part is that we so often believe it.

Fear comes in many shapes and sizes, meaning its impact on us can also come in varying degrees. Fear of man often looks like unhealthy people pleasing, an inability to stand your ground when you’re being mistreated, or a desperate desire to be accepted by the fallen humanity around you. Fear of failure can manifest into obsessive perfectionism or difficulty receiving feedback. Fear of change can look like never accepting a new direction, pushing back against it in ways that ultimately hurt you and the people around you.

No, we’re not called to respond to any and every circumstance perfectly. Jesus knows we could never do that. But what are we called to? As the Apostle Paul put it, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1). 1 Peter 2:21 reminds us that we are to follow in Christ’s footsteps. And as part of following His footsteps, we’re also called to love, with 1 John 4:18 emphasizing that “there is no fear in love.” Rather, “Perfect love drives out fear.” However, the rest of that verse is crucial in helping us navigate this tight rope of fear and faith. Thankfully, John made it clear for us: “perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

What is perfect love? It’s Christ. And if Christ is perfect love, you see what John is getting at, right? He is reminding us of how, for those who are heirs of the Kingdom of God, we’ve already been released from the chains of sin and death. We have nothing to fear because no punishment awaits. Yes, we will still be held accountable for our deeds, and Scripture is clear that we have an obligation to obedience. And yet, the price has been paid. As the hymn goes, “My sin — oh, the bliss of this glorious thought — My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to His Cross, and I bear it no more; Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!”

This is such good news because it’s grounding news. We don’t have to fear because, as Paul wrote, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31). Psalm 118:6 states, “The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?” For Christ’s people, “God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Timothy 1:7), and we are “more than conquerors” because “he who is in [us] is greater than he who is in the world” (Romans 8:37; 1 John 4:4). Dear reader, there are so many verses in Scripture urging us to fix our gaze on Christ, to look to the things that are above, and to lift our eyes unto the hill — for that is where our help comes from. Our “help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1-2).

So, fear may strike our souls and pierce our hearts. It may distort our vision and impair our hope. But fear, no matter how mighty it feels in the moment, does not win. Fear, a cowardly tactic of the enemy and a natural part of this fallen world, has no place in the heart of the faithful, where that very faith reminds us: Jesus holds all things together. Not only has He promised never to leave nor forsake us, but He’s also promised to never let us stray too far. Or did you forget? We have always been the ones running. He has always been the one to come and find us. Hallelujah!

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10). When fear blurs our sight, God invites us to refocus: not on the storm, not on our foes, not on our frailty — but on Him, the One who never lets go.