A Meditation on Dread

Human beings are naturally predisposed toward feeling the sensation of fear in certain circumstances. When someone points a gun at me and demands my wallet, my body releases adrenaline, my skin flushes, my hands start to tremble, and so on. Acute stress responses needn't happen only when one is faced with a real and/or physical threat either. People often feel fear, panic, and dread at things which aren't (or at least are not immediate) threats at all, such as heights, spiders, or the ocean. They also might feel fear or dread over more "existential" worries, such as social pressure, despair over the future, regret, or other such things. There are also fears of a more psychological nature, such as cognitive dissonance, and the fear of being wrong.

Here I want to discuss specifically these latter types of dread as they apply to the Christian. I believe that the Christian is in somewhat of a unique position when it comes to fear and dread and that God has provided specific consolations in the Scriptures that speak directly to this matter.

Consider the following: the fundamental teaching of Christianity (nota bene, different groups of Christianity are bound to approach the notion of the fundamental teaching of Christianity differently. I am a Lutheran so I shall approach it with the material principle of Lutheranism—monergistic soteriology—in mind, but the reader will see that my point here still stands even if one rejects Lutheranism) is that Jesus Christ, who was God incarnate in the body of a man, lived and preached a message of faith and forgiveness of sins for all who would believe in him, and that he was executed (and subsequently resurrected) so that the sins of the whole world could be forgiven once for all. Central to this fundamental teaching is the idea that God saves us by sola fide, faith alone, through sola gratia, grace alone. Salvation is (solely) a matter of God working faith in us through His Word and Sacraments.

But, God leaves the possibility of rejecting Him up to us. Sin is our fault, and it follows that apostasy and unbelief are too. While God does work faith in our hearts, we still may choose to steel ourselves against Him in rebellion. The Bible tells us that such unbelieving rebellion will earn us eternal perdition in hell, where our sins will be applied against us for all eternity (Mat. 25:41, Mat. 3:12, Dan. 12:2, 2 Thes. 1:9, Rev. 14:10-11). This is indeed the worst fate that anyone could conceivably face. And it follows from that that this fate is more worthy of fear than any other. For what could be more utterly terrifying than eternal conscious torture? I maintain that anyone who doesn't find the idea of this deeply scary has not fully mulled it over.

Now the dread of this fate certainly can appear in unbelievers, namely those who repress the truth manifest in their hearts (see Rom. 1:18-23). However, I maintain that it finds its most acute expression in the Christian. For the Christian truly believes in the might and sovereignty and perfect holiness of God. And the Christian truly believes that he deserves the ultimate punishment of damnation and that he would receive it if not for his faith in Jesus Christ. But what follows from this is that, should he lose his faith, to the outer darkness he shall be cast at the end of days (see Matthew 22). And this, I hold, is the deepest and truly the most rational dread that could plague anyone, and a fortiori the Christian. It is also the most important fear of the psychological nature that I mentioned above.

This is the reason I often find myself beset with terror upon considering the arguments and reasonings of the irreligious. Because while what if they are right is a bad enough possibility (nihilism would be an awful reality), what if they convince me is the one which causes the most keen (and warranted) trepidation. Of course, I do reject the arguments and reasonings of the irreligious as foolishness. By this does not stop the dread of hell from casting its tenebrous malaise over my heart whenever I ponder the possibility of my own apostasy.

This dread is also the reason behind one of the chief worries of the Christian: am I really saved? I do not think there has ever lived a Christian who has never felt consternation over this question. It has led some theologians to suppose that those who are saved cannot become condemned again, a doctrine called perseverance. (Unfortunately, not only is this doctrine not found in Scripture, it only serves to cast further doubt on the eternal state of the soul. For it would mean that those who "fell away" were never really saved in the first place. But there are many who "fall away" who did truly believe themselves to be saved, and who even led good Christian lives and professed orthodoxy. So what follows from preseverance is that there can be no certainty of salvation, not even in one's beliefs or apparent faith.) It has led yet others to point to good works as evidence of true faith. (This does not work either, for while good works do indeed follow from true faith, they cannot provide any salvific certainty. For what then do we make of the evil deeds that we commit daily and often? And what of the many unbelievers who do appear to genuinely pursue goodness?)

Of course, God in His great knowledge has anticipated this issue, in addition to the more broad issue of dread and anxiety in general. And in His great goodness, He has provided us with an answer. The problem of salvific certainty finds its resolution in the fact that not only our salvation but also our remaining in our salvation, is solely a matter of Gods working in us through His Word and Sacraments, which themselves serve to engender faith and grace in our hearts (see Jn. 6:51, Rom. 6:3-4, and Rom. 1:16). What this means is that, as far as it is up to God, we are utterly secure. God wills that no one should perish (1 Tim. 2:4), and that of His children He should lose not one (Jn. 6:39-40). Should we fall away from faith, it can only be through a flagrant act of pure rebellion; it can only be solely our own fault. God promises us clearly and often in the Bible that we find our salvation in Jesus Christ alone (Jn. 1:16, Col. 1:20, 1 Cor. 15:21-22, 2 Cor. 5:17-19, Acts 10:43, Jn. 3:16-18, etc.). He also clearly appoints for us an objective, efficacious rite through which we should receive this salvation: Baptism (Matt. 28:18, Titus 3:5, Rom. 6:3-4, Col. 2:12, 1 Pet. 3:21). Putting all of this together, a beautiful picture of fathomless grace emerges: one in which God sends His very Son to die for our sins and become the only path to eternal life, and also ordains a Sacrament which really actually saves us by supernaturally producing faith in our hearts. We aren't saved by our good works, nor by any subjective feelings or emotions we might have. We are saved truly and objectively by Christ, who truly and objectively gives us faith via the Holy Spirit working through Baptism. The reason why this is so immensely comforting is that the matter of our becoming and staying saved simply isn't a matter of us doing anything. It is a matter of God's promises alone. (The reader should, of course, not take me to be saying that the specific matter of rejecting God is not up to us. The Scriptures are clear that we can reject God of our own accord (see Acts 7:51, Acts 13:46, and Mat. 23:37). My point is rather that God takes responsibility for our justification and perseverance in that justification, as far as can be done without violating our freedom to reject him.)

This specific case involving dread serves to cast light on more broad instances of anxiety or worry. In light of God's omnibenevolent care as illustrated by the above vignette, the famous passage of Matthew 6 in which Jesus tells us not to worry takes on a deeper significance. Jesus speaks of the animals, plants, and nature that God constantly sustains in being and in beauty, and asks, if we are of so much greater value than all of these things, how does it make any sense to worry about our own livelihoods and needs? God knows that we need what we do, and He is prepared to provide for us. But if this is all true, how much more profoundly does Jesus's discourse apply to salvific worries? This sort of anxiety, as I have shown above, is much more deep-seated, rational, and concerning than any worries about food, clothing, or other bodily needs. And if this is the case, Jesus's petition to "cast all your care on the Lord" as it were (1 Pet. 5:7) applies all the more vigorously to matters of our salvation. God's answer to the problem of certainty is His firm and unchanging word that we are safe in Him. He is our rock and our fortress (Ps. 18:2), and in His promises, which are external to our own tumultuous and fickle hearts, we find our security. This is God's answer to dread.

While dread poses a deep and penetrating challenge to all of humanity, it applies to the Christian in a unique way: not only with regard to his salvation but also in general. The tension and interplay between the fears and doubts common to all men in addition to those faced specifically by the Christian, and the nature and the Word of the God he serves, makes for an unparalleled experience of dread which is in many ways more difficult to understand and deal with. Problems seem to arise from this paradigm; why is there dread in the world? Why does God allow so much of it? And so on. I have no intention of expounding upon solutions to the problem of evil, as it is rather irrelevant and has already been done by theologians far more able than myself. But I hope I have at least shown how this problem applies exclusively to the Christian, as well as the specific consolations that God provides for him in the Scriptures.

In Phillipians 4:6-7 we are exhorted not to be anxious about anything, but rather to make our supplications known to God because His peace will guard our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. In this truth lies comfort far deeper than any dread which might give us pause. Indeed, the peace which God promises to give us is so deep that it transcends understanding itself. And this all rests not on fallible human nature or strivings, but in the objective promises of a perfectly good God. And that truly is good news.