A phobia is defined as the “irrational fear” of certain things or situations. Arachnophobia is a fear of spiders (though some might argue that’s a perfectly rational thing to be afraid of!). Then there’s globophobia and xocolatophobia. These and some four hundred other phobias are real and documented. It seems we can become afraid of most anything.

The Bible tells of the Israelites’ fear after receiving the Ten Commandments: “When the people saw the thunder and lightning . . . they trembled in fear” (Exodus 20:18). Moses comforted them, offering this most interesting statement: “Do not be afraid. God has come to test you, so that the fear of God will be with you” (v. 20). Moses seems to contradict himself: “Don’t be afraid but be afraid.” In fact, the Hebrew word for “fear” contains two meanings—a trembling terror of something or a reverent awe of God.

We may laugh to learn that globophobia is the fear of balloons and xocolatophobia is a fear of chocolate. The more serious bottom line about phobias is that we can be afraid of all kinds of things. Fears creep into our lives like spiders, and the world can be a scary place. As we struggle with phobias and fears, we do well to be reminded that our God is an awesome God, offering us his present comfort in the midst of darkness.

On July 12, 2022, scientists awaited the first images of deepest space from the new James Webb Space Telescope. The state-of-the-art telescope can look farther into the universe than mankind has ever looked before. Suddenly a breathtaking image emerges: a color space-scape of the Carina Nebula, never before seen like this. One NASA astronomer quoted Carl Sagan, a noted atheist: “Somewhere, something incredible is waiting.”

Sometimes people can look God in the eye and not see Him. But the psalmist David looked into the sky and knew exactly what he was seeing: “You have set your glory in the heavens” (Psalm 8:1). Sagan was right that “something incredible is waiting,” but he failed to acknowledge what David clearly perceived: “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them” (vv. 3-4).

When we see images of deepest space, we are amazed, not so much because of technology, but because we’re witnessing the handiwork of God. We marvel because in the vastness of creation God has made us “rulers over the works of [his] hands” (v. 8:6).  Indeed something “incredible is waiting”—God, waiting to bring believers in Jesus to Him. That’s the most breathtaking image of all.

The color red doesn’t always naturally occur in the things we make. How do you put the vibrant color of an apple into a T-shirt or lipstick? In early times, the red pigment was made from clay or red rocks. In the 1400s, the Aztecs invented a way of using cochineal insects to make red dye. Today, those same tiny insects supply the world with red.

In the Bible, red denotes royalty, and it also signifies sin and shame. Further, it’s the color of blood. When soldiers “stripped [Jesus] and put a scarlet robe on him” (Matthew 27:28), these three symbolisms merged into one heart-breaking image of red: Jesus was ridiculed as would-be royalty, He was cloaked in shame, and He was robed in the color of the blood He would soon shed. But Isaiah’s words foretell the promise of this crimsoned Jesus to deliver us from the red that stains us: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (1:18).

One other thing about those cochineal insects used for red dye—they are actually milky white on the outside. Only when they are crushed do they release their red blood. That little fact echoes for us other words from Isaiah: “[Jesus] was crushed for our iniquities” (Isaiah 53:5).

Perhaps this is a good time to ponder the place of Jesus in your life. He who knew no sin is here to save us who are red with sin. You see, in His crushing death, Jesus endured a whole lot of red so you could be white as snow.

Born on a farm, Judson Van DeVenter learned to paint, studied art, and became an art teacher. God, however, had a different plan for him. Friends valued his work in church and urged him to go into evangelism. Judson felt God calling him too, but it was hard for him to give up his love for teaching art. He wrestled with God, but “at last,” he wrote, “the pivotal hour of my life came, and I surrendered all.”

We can’t imagine Abraham’s heartbreak when God called him to surrender his son Isaac. In the wake of God’s command to “sacrifice him there as a burnt offering” (Genesis 22:2) we ask ourselves what precious thing God is calling us to sacrifice. We know that God ultimately spared Isaac (v. 12), and yet the point is made: Abraham was willing to surrender what was most precious to him. He trusted God to provide in the midst of a most difficult calling.

We say we love God, but are we willing to sacrifice what’s dearest to us? Judson Van DeVenter followed God’s call into evangelism and later penned the beloved hymn “I Surrender All.” In time, God called Judson back into teaching. One of his students was a young man named Billy Graham.

God’s plan for our lives has purposes we can’t imagine. He longs for us to be willing to surrender what is dearest. Seems that’s the least we can do. After all, He sacrificed for us His only begotten Son.

Jill Price was born with the condition of hyperthymesia: the ability to remember in extraordinary detail everything that ever happened to her. She can replay in her mind the exact occurrence of any event she’s experienced in her lifetime.

A TV show, Unforgettable, was premised on a female police officer with hyperthymesia—to her a great advantage in trivia games and in solving crimes. For Jill Price however, the condition isn’t so much fun. She can’t forget the moments of life when she was criticized, experienced loss, or did something she deeply regretted. She replays those scenes in her head over and over again.

Our God is omniscient (perhaps a kind of divine hyperthymesia): the Bible tells us that His understanding has no limit. And yet we discover in Isaiah a most reassuring thing: “I am he who blots out your transgressions . . . and remembers your sins no more” (Isaiah 43:25). The book of Hebrews reinforces this: “We have been made holy through . . . Jesus Christ [and our] sins and lawless acts [God] will remember no more” (Hebrews 10:10, 17).

As we confess our sins to God, we can stop playing them over and over in our minds. We need to let them go, just as God does: “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past” (Isaiah 43:18). In His great love, God chooses to not remember our sins against us. Let’s remember that.