Fearless

It’s that time of year again.

 

The leaves change colors, pumpkin spice takes over the food supply, and somebody down the street puts a twelve-foot skeleton in their front yard.

 

I have questions about that skeleton. Mostly, where do you store him in January? Does he get his own bedroom? Do you buckle him into the passenger seat when you move?

 

Then Halloween arrives, and Christians begin our annual discussion about candy, costumes, and whether buying a bag of miniature Snickers requires a theological statement.

 

Some families participate. Some don’t. Some attend church events. Some turn off the porch light and spend the evening protecting the dog from the doorbell.

 

Faithful Christians make different decisions about the day. But whatever we decide about October 31, there is something we need to consider:

 

Are we letting fear shape the way we live?

 

In 2 Timothy 1:7, Paul reminds Timothy that God has given us a spirit of power, love, and self-control rather than fear.

 

Paul wasn’t writing about Halloween decorations. He was encouraging a young minister to stand faithfully for Christ, even when that faithfulness involved suffering. In the next verse, he tells Timothy not to be ashamed of the testimony about the Lord.

 

That gives this passage some weight. This is courage for a difficult calling.

 

And we need that courage, too.

 

We can become so worried about the darkness around us that we forget how to carry the light.

 

We worry about what our children might encounter. We worry about the direction of our culture. We worry about what people will think if we speak up — or if we don’t.

 

Before long, fear has become our unofficial spiritual adviser.

 

And fear gives terrible advice. It tends to recommend panic, suspicion, and arguing with strangers in the comment section.

 

Jesus gives us a better way to live.

 

In Matthew 5:14–16, He calls His disciples the light of the world and tells them to let their light shine through good works that lead people to glorify their Father.

 

That means our presence in the neighborhood ought to reveal something about God’s goodness.

 

People should encounter kindness. Generosity. Patience. A willingness to listen. The kind of love that notices a tired parent trying to keep three excited children from running into traffic.

 

There are real spiritual concerns Christians should take seriously. Scripture warns against occult practices, and following Jesus requires discernment. We don’t need to celebrate everything our culture celebrates.

 

We can set clear boundaries and explain them graciously. We can also respect another family’s decision without turning the fellowship hall into a courtroom.

 

Your convictions deserve more thought than a frightening social media post somebody shared with seventeen exclamation points.

 

Pray. Read Scripture. Consider what an activity actually involves. Make a faithful decision for your household. Then live that decision with peace.

If your porch light is on, greet your neighbors warmly. If you attend a church outreach, help make it a place where families experience genuine welcome. If your family sits Halloween out, find another opportunity to build relationships and serve someone.

 

There is plenty of room for faithful, thoughtful action, but what concerns me most is how easily we can spend an entire evening examining a plastic decoration while overlooking the real person standing beside it. That neighbor has a story. That parent may be exhausted. That child may need to see an adult who is gentle and safe. Those are people Jesus calls us to love.

 

Being fearless doesn’t mean you never feel afraid. Timothy needed encouragement for a reason. Courage means trusting God enough to take the next faithful step while your knees are still wobbling. So, this October, ask God for discernment about your choices—and love for the people your choices bring you near. Keep your convictions. Practice kindness. Look for opportunities to do good. And if the giant skeleton next door makes you nervous, remember: he may be twelve feet tall, but he still needs somebody to put him together.

 

Fear doesn’t have to run your life. You belong to Jesus. Let that confidence show in the way you love your neighbors.

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