Anchored Beyond Fear
(Acts 6:1-7; 1Pet.2:4-9; Jn.14:1-12)
On the night before he’s crucified, Jesus says something that seems almost impossible: ‘Don’t let your hearts be troubled.’
Notice when he says it: not after his Resurrection, and not when everything is fine. He says it, knowing that he’s going to die the next day.
The disciples are worried; they sense that something terrible is coming, but Jesus doesn’t give them any explanations or solutions. He simply offers them himself: ‘Trust in God, and trust in me.’
He’s not telling them to stop feeling anxious. He’s inviting them to choose where to rest their hearts when anxiety arrives.
We live in anxious times, too. Many people today worry about their health, their family, the world, and their future. Most of us manage to hide our feelings, but deep down our hearts are often troubled.
Jesus knows this, and he’s trying to help. But what is he really saying?
Someone who understood this well was Julian of Norwich (1343-1417). She was an English mystic who lived in tough times: during the black plague and terrible social upheaval, and through great personal illness. And yet she said: ‘All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.’
She wasn’t naïve, for she knew all about suffering. But she did discover that beneath life’s turmoil there’s a deeper steadiness that only comes from God.
Julian realised that ‘All shall be well’ after having one of her remarkable visions. In it, she saw the whole world as something small and fragile, like a hazelnut, resting in the palm of God’s hand. And she understood that the only reason it exists at all is because God loves it.
This is what Jesus is saying to us. Yes, our world is fragile, and the future may seem frightening, but you are safe in the hands of God because he truly loves you.
Whatever happens, you won’t be alone, for there’s a place for you, a future held by God. This means that fear is no longer at the centre of things. God is.
C.S. Lewis learned this the hard way. After his wife Joy died, he wrote a very honest book called A Grief Observed. In it he admits that his prayer felt empty, his faith felt fragile, and God seemed quite distant.
Lewis doesn’t offer neat answers, but he does explain that faith is not a feeling of security. Rather, it’s a choice of who to trust when your security is gone.
He discovered that belief is not the absence of doubt or fear. Rather, it’s the decision to keep placing your life in God’s hands even when your heart feels shaken. This is what Jesus is asking of his disciples – and that includes us today.
‘Don’t let your hearts be troubled’ doesn’t mean that you won’t be troubled. It means ‘don’t let trouble rule your heart.’
We can see this in the life of St John XXIII. He became pope in 1958, at a time of enormous anxiety: the Cold War, the threat of nuclear destruction, and deep tensions within the Church itself. Yet those who met him were struck by his calm, his warmth, and his humour.
There’s a story told of him going to bed at night, burdened by the problems of the Church. Before sleeping, he prayed: ‘Lord, it’s your Church. I’m going to bed.’
He wasn’t being irresponsible. He was simply placing his trust in God. John XXIII understood that peace does not come from being in control, but from knowing who truly is.
That’s the peace Jesus offers us today: a heart anchored beyond fear.
And then Jesus adds something really important: ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life,’ he says.
Jesus doesn’t give his disciples a formula or a map; instead, he gives them himself.
The Christian life is not about having everything worked out; it’s about staying close to the Good Shepherd who leads us through to the green pastures.
At every Eucharist, we come with our troubled hearts. But we don’t leave them at the door; we place them on the altar. For that’s where Jesus meets us and gives us himself.
When we reverently take Jesus into our hands at communion, remember that we are already safely in his hands.
So perhaps the most honest prayer we can make this Easter season is not ‘Lord, take away my fear,’ but: ‘Lord, please help me to trust you more than my fear.’
Because our Christian faith is not the promise of a trouble-free life. It’s the promise of a trustworthy companion.
And that, Jesus tells us, is enough.