Built on The Rock

It was just the wind

I took the plunge.

Not into water, but into the thin

crackle of pages turned,

the deep, ancient current of The Word.

Down I went, past the shallow anxieties,

into the quiet pressure of Truth.

Where my own breath felt foreign

and the light was a soft, filtered thing

from a world I’d left behind.

I thought I would find a place with no fear.

A sterile room, a silent sea.

But instead, revelation came,

not in a shout, but a whisper 

that rearranged the bones in my ears:

Freedom isn’t the absence of fear.

It’s not the banishing of the tremors,

nor the erasing of the shadow 

that walks behind me.

No.

Fear is still here.

It still taps at the window,

a familiar ghost in a familiar house.

But the key. The key!

Now I have the key.

And fear, no longer has the authority

to consume my thoughts,

to build a bonfire in my mind

and burn all the furniture

until there is nothing left to sit on 

but its hard, cold logic.

Now, the thought of it,

is just a thought, a passing cloud.

And I have room to breathe.

Fear no longer makes my decisions,

its fingers no longer tangled in my strings,

like a clumsy puppeteer,

making me dance a frantic, panicked jig.

I choose to step forward now.

Or to stand still.

Not because its chains are gone,

but because I am no longer a prisoner

wearing them.

Fear no longer dictates my future,

that dark, heavy hand

writing my story in permanent ink.

I’ve taken the pen back.

The path is no longer 

a terrifying obstacle course,

but a pilgrimage.

The map is not a threatening maze,

but an open invitation.

I came up from the Word,

with a new understanding.

Yes, the world was the same,

the wind still blew cold.

But the fear… the fear was just the wind.

And I am the house, built on The Rock,

unshaken.

Free, not from fears feeling,

but from its reign.

Thank you Lord Jesus!

© 1/10/2026 by David Douglas