God’s perfect love casts out all fear when we hand ourselves over to him in hope. Why tremble? Why hesitate? When all that can be desired is offered by the one who is powerful to accomplish far more than all we ask or imagine.
Change is scary. Between the unknowns we can foresee and those that may come upon us suddenly, the uncertainty that change brings looms in the shadows and darkens its silver linings. Often, the best our frail hearts can hope for is to remain where we are, as we are, safe and sound. We want job security. We want comfort from our friends and family. We want peace.
But Christ—by his own admission—came not to bring peace, but the sword (Matt 10:34). This seems paradoxical coming from the one who is better remembered for telling his disciples, “Peace be with you.” But it makes more sense when we hear him say, “My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you” (John 14:27).
The peace that Christ offers to us is not that worldly peace to which we cling. It is not the peace of economic prosperity, of easy relations, of a glowing reputation. The peace Christ invites us to is a higher peace. A peace that we cannot fathom if our hearts and minds are not attuned to the will of God. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, are my ways higher than your ways, my thoughts higher than your thoughts” (Isa 55:9). It is a peace that requires us to relinquish the perception of self-control and hand over our lives to God, following him in faith and hope. Pax Christi in Regno Christi—The peace of Christ under the rule of Christ.
Handing ourselves over to Christ in this way remains a scary prospect when viewed with worldly eyes. Such surrender runs contrary to the worldly peace for which we long, giving us no guarantee of economic security or social stability. To the contrary, this capitulation to God often means giving up our worldly totems and entrusting ourselves to God’s providential care in the obscurity of faith.
The story of the near encounter between Graham Greene—the Catholic-ish author—and Padre Pio—the beloved stigmatist the Church celebrates today—illustrates the terrible effect this worldly fear can have, keeping us from embracing the life to which Christ calls us.
Greene recounted his visit to Padre Pio’s convent, Santa Maria delle Grazie, with his mistress in a four-page personal letter to Kenneth Woodward, the Religion editor at Newsweek. In the letter Greene recalls, “I was invited to see [Padre Pio] that night in the monastery, but I made excuses not to go as neither of us wanted our lives changed!”
Though Greene was awed by the meek friar’s stigmata, he understood that a confrontation with sanctity would make demands upon him. He knew that the beauty to which Padre Pio was a witness would draw him upwards, towards a more perfect love. He also knew that there were certain, less-perfect loves of which he was unwilling to let go or relegate to their proper place in the hierarchy of love. The fear of loosening his grip on these lesser loves kept Greene from a potentially life-changing encounter with holiness.
But the grace of the virtue of hope allows us to face this worldly sadness and truly desire to change and to be changed. In hope we accept our total dependence on God, and we receive a sure confidence that, in his love, God will bring us to that ultimate peace that lasts unto the end of the ages. In hope we see God for who he is, a keeper of promises who will give us all that we need. The troubled poet, John Donne expressed well the firm effect hope has in dissipating our fear of sanctity’s absolute demands on our lives:
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And, having done that, thou hast done;
I fear no more. (A Hymn to God the Father)
God’s perfect love casts out all fear when we hand ourselves over to him in hope. Why tremble? Why hesitate? When all that can be desired is offered by the one who is powerful to accomplish far more than all we ask or imagine.
✠
Republished with gracious permission from Dominicana (September 2025).
The Imaginative Conservative applies the principle of appreciation to the discussion of culture and politics—we approach dialogue with magnanimity rather than with mere civility. Will you help us remain a refreshing oasis in the increasingly contentious arena of modern discourse? Please consider donating now.
Image by Bonnie Moreland on Stocksnap