It’s almost Thanksgiving and things this year are weird. We’re coming up on a year of a pandemic and nine months of general restrictions that have either shuttered or severely impacted some part of every person’s life. It’s cruel, really. On many levels. COVID-19 is a terrible virus that impacts all of us in wildly disparate ways and spreads most effectively via close contact. It’s terrifying to consider what will happen if you or your loved ones get it. But, the most cruel part of this whole situation is that, when folk are scared, they want to be near and comforted by the ones they love, the most dangerous place to be. 

All the pastors from my youth taught—and maybe even forced—me to show no fear. They told me fear is the opposite of faith, and that living life in fear somehow does an injustice to Christ’s sacrifice. ‘Bit harsh for an eight-year-old kid, but OK. Maybe we should pull our masks off and gallivant around shouting about the blood of Jesus or start a game of who-can-lick-the-most-doorknobs to prove our faith in God. Of course, that’s silly, but my mind is made up. I’m not going to go to the family Thanksgiving meal and I knew I was going to have to explain myself to my a tiny, fiery, disagreeable, Pentecostal-leaning pastor-mom. And I was supposed to make the gravy this year. Talk about stress.

I put on my big-boy pants and called Friday during the final meal planning. My stomach was in knots. I told her about my choice to skip the traditional family meal and, to my astonishment, she praised me for being responsible. She said—and get this—she didn’t want to put anyone else at risk for her sake. My mother, a 70-year-old woman with COPD, wasn’t worried about getting sick. She didn’t want to be a risk for the younger generations. Talk about fearless!

We chatted for some time and decided to exchange side dishes responsibly and have a video chat on Thursday, but it didn’t settle the concept of faith and fear for me. It seems to me there’s something more than believing Jesus will have your back while you’re off to trade masks with randos. I wondered—to call-back a ninety’s trend—What Would Jesus Do?

My wandering took me back to the story of Satan’s tempting of Jesus in the desert. The story (Matthew 4:1-11) says, immediately after his baptism, Jesus went into the desert for forty days and nights. While there, Satan tempted Jesus with three types of temptations. For one of them, Satan led Jesus to the top of a high cliff and told him, to paraphrase, “go ahead and jump! God will save you, right?” To which Jesus responded that we’re not to tempt God, at which point Satan scurries off. I thought about those few sentences for a while before I understood the meaning this time. Jesus wouldn’t have tempted God, per-se. He would have been forcing God to prove his love and divinity simply for the sake of selfish pride.

When I was a dumb teenager, I was in a relationship with another dumb teenager. Of course, we were meant for each other, and there was nothing that could have proven otherwise. I, being a dumb teenager (not sure if I mentioned that), had a terrible habit of being smart-mouthed (that’s still true, by the way), and I used to enjoy saying “prove it” any time she said she loved me. It always made her mad, and rightly so! Eventually, she dumped me. Honestly, I deserved it.

I’m much older now, married, and smarter (I hope), and this week I considered that situation and Jesus’s temptations. Could you imagine having to prove yourself at every turn? Could you imagine the stress of your spouse or employer or even your dog demanding you prove your loyalty all the time? There were many situations other than standing on the edge of a cliff wherein Christ could have used divine intervention to make his life easier. He could have called out for God to change so many things,  but his aim was not to show that we can take the easy way out any time we wanted. He wasn’t here to show use that God will simply make things better whenever we were in an uncomfortable spot. Jesus was a guide to show that’s it’s possible to showcase love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control even in the face of adversity; that we can be an overwhelming force for good even when it’s not easy.

Some pastors would berate me, for deciding not to attend family thanksgiving this year. They’d tell me I’m not living by faith. But I believe Jesus showed us, like love, we don’t need to prove our faith. I would never force Wife to prove her love by consciously doing something that will require her to forgive me afterward. The same goes for God and my faith. The choice was hard but sound. The health of my family is more important than a chance to be gluttonous and anyone who says this is an act of fear is fooling themselves. The opposite of faith isn’t fear. Faith is knowing the monster, whatever it may be, can destroy you with one swipe but walking to face it anyway, because not facing it will only make things worse. The opposite of that isn’t fear, it’s running in intentionally unprepared and trusting God to just fix it without any help from you. The opposite of faith is cocky, dangerous, blinding pride, the type of pride that comes before the fall.

I love my family and I’ll miss being near them on Thursday but I’m okay with it. Besides, this way there’ll be more turkey leftovers for me.