A few years ago, armed robbers visited my home. The incident lasted about thirty minutes, but it became the longest thirty minutes of my life, not only because of what happened, but because of what it left behind. They left me with the gift of fear.

First, I was so shaken that I moved out of the apartment.

Second, the robbery happened around 7:00 p.m. For the next two to three years, whenever it was approaching 7:00 p.m., my mind would begin to race. If I had not eaten by then, I could not eat. Fear sat on my chest like a weight. It was not caution. It was torment.

Yet, in those moments, I kept speaking to myself: “For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7. 

That experience taught me something I have never forgotten: fear is a gift, but I do not mean gift in a positive sense. I do not mean restraint, which can be fear’s useful side. I mean torment: the fear of someone, the fear of something, the fear of a process, the fear of death, the fear of “what if,” the habit of painting and then living inside endless negative scenes.

Fear trains the mind to dwell on the negative. It paints the worst-case scenario and then disguises itself as wisdom. But fear is not wisdom.

This kind of fear is a dark gift, often delivered by the enemy of our souls through life’s wounds, through other people, through childhood abuse, through trauma, and through the systems human beings build and use against one another.

How do I know fear can be a “gift”? Because Scripture says, “God has not given us the spirit of fear…” I want to stay with that word: given. The Bible does not pretend fear does not exist. Many passages acknowledge it. But this passage draws a sharp line: the paralyzing fear that torments, weakens, and immobilizes does not come from God. It is not His gift.

In my conviction, if it is not from God, then it belongs to the one whose trade is deception. The devil has no true gift to offer, only traps dressed as gifts.

Fear is often weaponized by people and by systems to force conformity to destructive desires, plans, and agendas. Its purpose is usually the same: to disturb the mind, weaken resolve, and produce compliant “yes men” and “yes women.” At other times, fear arises from our interpretation of what we have seen happen to others, what we know they suffered, what we think may happen to us, and what we imagine we may not survive.

That, I believe, is part of what lies behind the modern idea of a scapegoat: someone made to bear blame, punishment, or consequence on behalf of others. The term comes from the ritual in Leviticus 16, where a goat symbolically carried away the sins of the people; the English word itself is traced to William Tyndale’s 1530 rendering, “escape goat,” later shortened to “scapegoat.” 

But fear must never be treated as inevitable.

Fear is a door.

Scripture says, “What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me.” Job 3:25.  I do not read that as magic. I read it as a profound spiritual and psychological truth: fear conditions the mind to expect disaster and to live as though disaster is inevitable.

Fear is also a snare. Scripture says, “The fear of man brings a snare.” Proverbs 29:25.  Fear traps you. It cages your choices. It narrows your voice. It makes you negotiate your destiny with intimidation.

But here is the liberating truth: “Perfect love casts out fear.” 1 John 4:18.  When we receive the love of God, steady, perfect, undeserved, we gain the courage to reject fear, whether it is handed to us deliberately or absorbed quietly through pain, trauma, or pressure. Whether fear is “given” intentionally or picked up by default, it does the same damage if we accept it.

And that is the decisive point: fear becomes master only when it is accepted. That is the principle reflected in Romans 6:16: what you yield yourself to obey becomes your master. We have the will to accept fear or reject it. But rejecting fear becomes possible only when we know who we are.

And here lies another truth: many of the things we fear never happen.

I believe I have, by the grace of God, overcome the fear of death, the fear of man, and the fear of the systems men create.

So I can now say with Scripture, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” 1 Corinthians 15:55. 

I can say, “Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul.” Matthew 10:28. 

I can say, “The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.” Hebrews 13:6. 

And when men confront me with their devices, I ask from the depth of conscience: “Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you judge.” Acts 4:19. 

So yes, fear may come. Fear may knock. Fear may even arrive as an unwanted gift.

But it need not be received.

And so I can boldly say: “Yíyọ ẹkùn bíi tòjò kọ.” The gentleness of a lion is not born of fear.