Paul E. Penno
February 20, 2010
It’s not easy moving through the world when you’re terrified of electricity. “Donna,” 45, a writer, knows that better than most. Get her in the vicinity of an appliance or a light switch or a thunderstorm, and she is overcome by a terror so blinding she can think of nothing but fleeing. That, of course, is not always possible, so over time, Donna has come up with other answers. When she opens the refrigerator door, rubber-soled shoes are a must. If a light bulb blows, she will tolerate the dark until someone else changes it for her. Clothes shopping is done only when necessary, lest static on garments send her running from the store. And swimming at night is absolutely out of the question, lest underwater lights electrocute her. When there’s a possibility that lightning may strike, she simply shuts off everything in her house and sits alone in a darkened room until the danger passes. Donna is afflicted with electro-phobia.
Now if you think she’s nuts and plagued with an irrational fear, then consider this. Every human being on the face of this earth is afflicted with a suppressed terror of meeting God. We are informed that at the coming of the Crucified One “the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb” (Revelation 6:15, 16).
Now what explains such odd human behavior when confronted with a Lamb? One day I visited a farm in which there were goats and rabbits, chickens and turkeys. The largest animals on the farm were the sheep. When the owner invited me to come into the pen with the sheep, they were the most docile and benign of all the critters on the farm.
The only explanation for our human fear of God is our repressed, intense, animosity toward God. Our first parents exhibited this fear after the Fall when God paid them a visit. They cringed in fear. Sin had so riddled them with guilt that they could not bear to be in the presence of a holy, loving God. They preferred death themselves or the elimination of God rather than coexistence with Him. They were extremely uncomfortable around God.
On a float-trip down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, our guide pointed out a secluded cabin in the remote wilderness where a recluse lived. We were warned not to approach the property because he would come out with guns ablazing. A hermit is anti-social and can’t stand being around people. That’s the natural born state of humans with God.
In order for humans to survive with such psychological trauma, we have adapted to our environment by suppressing the consciousness of God’s existence deep down inside. We have been deeply damaged with regard to our picture of God. We see the combination of the horrors of evil all around us as manifestations of God’s handiwork. We blame Him for everything bad that happens.
Is it any wonder that just thinking about a return visit of God to this earth gives us an advent attack? We are ill prepared for the second coming of Jesus. And there are gospel preachers who unwittingly play to those human fears of His return visit.
I don’t believe we can herald