Recovering the Fear of the Lord

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“Let all the earth fear the Lord,” we read in Psalm 33:8; “let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of Him.” Proverbs 9:10 tells us that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom,” an idea echoed in Psalm 111:10 and Proverbs 1:7. Indeed, it does not take long to recognize that the fear of God is a prominent theme throughout the Bible. Yet texts such as these give rise to questions from new Christians—and for that matter, from plenty of lifelong Christians. Why is fearing God a good thing if God is good and loving? If we instinctively shy away from those things we fear, then how can we draw near to God and cultivate a relationship with Him? Perhaps most pressing: isn’t fear a mark of outdated and toxic forms of spirituality that interfere with human flourishing?

These questions can intensify when we notice that there is a genuine ambivalence about the notion of fear in Scripture itself. Plenty of texts envision fear as something to be avoided or confronted. 1 John 4:18 provides a striking example: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love.” We find another well-known instance in the book of Isaiah, where the people of Israel are repeatedly encouraged not to fear because of God’s presence with them (Isaiah 41:10, 13). 

Sometimes complex attitudes towards fear can be found within the very same passage. For example, 2 Corinthians 7 opens with an exhortation to make “holiness perfect in the fear of God.” Yet a few verses later, Paul recounts how the arrival of Titus (along with news of the church at Corinth) was a means God used to console Paul and his companions from “disputes without and fears within” (v. 5). Similarly, in 1 Peter 2:17 we find a series of staccato commands: “Honor everyone. Love the family of believers. Fear God. Honor the emperor.” Of course, this fear of God is contrasted in the next chapter with more common forms of fear: “Do not fear what they fear, and do not be intimidated, but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord” (3:14-15).

It is perhaps this last contrast in 1 Peter that most clearly reveals a key to the biblical ambivalence towards fear. The object of one’s trepidation can often distinguish healthy from unhealthy fear. Christians do not fear what others fear, precisely because in Christ God has brought life from death and brought every other power into subjection (3:18-22). This sheds considerable light upon the charge in chapter 2 to fear God but honor the emperor. In the very shadow of civil authorities that evoke widespread fear, God alone is to be feared by His people. In this light, the proper fear of the Lord transforms our response to the objects and powers of the created order. Somewhat ironically, a healthy reverence for God relieves the very fears that worldly leaders use as tools to exert their power. 

But is all fear of God healthy? Here again the Bible seems to signal an important distinction. Daniel Castelo has captured this point helpfully by identifying two types of fear of the Lord: Adamic fear and Mosaic fear (“The Fear of the Lord as Theological Method,” Journal of Theological Interpretation, Vol. 2, No. 1, Spring 2008). The idea of Adamic fear calls our attention to the Genesis 3 narrative, where Adam and Eve attempt to hide from God because of fear (v. 10). “One can see,” Castelo suggests, “that Adam and Eve’s fear during this narrative is an inappropriate disposition, especially toward God; this kind of fear is nothing less than an extension of sin.” Adamic fear is ultimately a kind of aversion to the consequences of sin, and it is often marked by a refusal to take responsibility for one’s own condition. This is not a healthy place to be, because it can prompt us to withdraw from God—the very God who can mercifully bring us out of a condition of sin. In this respect, Adamic fear is a symptom that directs us away from the cure for the disease.

By contrast, Mosaic fear is a healthy orientation toward God that draws us deeper into relationship with Him and all that this relationship entails. Here Castelo points to the exhortation of Deuteronomy 10:12-13, given in the shadow of Moses’ encounter with the Lord at Mount Horeb: “So now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God require of you? Only to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all His ways, to love Him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to keep the commandments of the Lord your God and His decrees that I am commanding you today, for your own well-being.” Notice that in this text fearing the Lord leads to intimacy with and obedience of God. Far from drawing us toward harm, this posture results in our own well-being.

But how is this the case? Why is it that “the fear of the Lord is life indeed” (Proverbs 19:23)? Two points are in order here, and together they can help us to see why the fear of God is such a pervasive theme throughout Scripture. The first thing to be said is that reverence and sobriety are natural reactions to encountering God. When finite creatures get a glimpse of the holiness of the infinite God, a response of fear is not only proper—it is inevitable. And that is just the point. To fear God in this sense means that we are truly facing God. The fear of the Lord is life-giving because it is the condition of those who are truly looking toward Him. We might come at this point from the other direction by recognizing that the only way to avoid a holy awe of God is to turn our gaze away from Him. 

In this respect, fear of the Lord is not so much a feeling that we are asked to muster up. Rather, it is a consequence of truly turning toward God. We obey the command to fear the Lord by turning toward Him, not by trying to manipulate our emotions. Thus the biblical direction to fear the Lord is really a summons to move toward God. We could say that this is an act of the will, so long as we keep in mind that this movement is enabled and sustained by God’s grace. Given the awe that naturally attends being in God’s presence, there is a sense in which we must continually choose to remain rather than turning away in Adamic fear. Unnerving though it may initially be, it is the way to healing and to life that is truly life.

Here again the Old Testament narratives of Moses encountering God on the mountain, particularly in Exodus, give us a sense of what is at stake. As the Lord descended upon the mountain, Moses and the people of Israel took in a number of imposing sights and sounds: a dark cloud, thunder, lightning, and smoke. They felt the mountain shaking and heard a loud trumpet blast (Exodus 19-20). This was clearly a daunting experience, yet Moses repeatedly ascended the mountain and “drew near to the thick darkness where God was” (20:21). This holy encounter was a foundational moment for Israel, in which the God who had brought them out of captivity drew them into the way of life that would sustain them as His covenant people.

Such an encounter can generate a deep sense of our own unworthiness, and this leads us to a second key point. Facing a God who is light and truth results in an honest accounting of who we are. We become deeply aware of our need for God, and this sobriety and humility is an inevitable part of fearing the Lord. But because we are freed from the illusion of self-sufficiency, holy fear sets the stage for transformative grace. It is just as we comprehend our need to be changed that we recognize the power of God that makes change possible. And this recognition changes the relationship between our fear and God’s judgment. Seen in the light of God’s healing mercy, we can understand judgement in Christ as good news. Only in letting down our defenses in the presence of God do we take in the full riches of His abounding love and grace.

Rowan Williams describes this experience of judgment in the light of truth with characteristic clarity in his book Tokens of Trust: “The identities we have made, that we have pulled around ourselves like a comfortable dressing-gown or a smart suit will dissolve, and what is deepest in us, what we most want, what we most care about, will be laid bare. We are right to feel apprehensive about that, and we are wrong to brush away the sense of proper fear before God’s judgment, however much we dislike the extravagant or hysterical expressions of it that have characterized some ages of Christian history.” Yet precisely in this unveiling we recognize the source of our hope. Our sense of inadequacy in the presence of a holy God is set against the redemptive work of God in Christ. Thus Williams concludes that “the Eastern Orthodox Liturgy asks for ‘a good answer before the terrible judgment seat of Christ.’ It is worth praying for, in the knowledge that such a ‘good answer’ can only be provided by the one who has promised to be our advocate, the truth in person.”

So Scripture calls us to fear God because it means we are truly in the presence of God and because it enables the honest accounting of self that makes healing possible. We see both of these dimensions reflected in the call story of Isaiah 6. The chapter begins with Isaiah’s vision of the Lord sitting on a throne. Isaiah’s immediate reaction to this sight reflects both reverence and a sense of his own unworthiness: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” (v. 5). It is one of the seraphs attending the throne of God who responds. The seraph neither rejects Isaiah’s assessment nor ushers him out of the divine presence. Rather, the seraph takes a live coal and touches Isaiah’s mouth with it. “Now that this has touched your lips,” Isaiah is told, “your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out” (v. 7). He is then prepared to respond to the Lord’s calling, which emerges in the succeeding verses.

We are currently in a social moment where just this sort of transformative reverence is sorely lacking. Indeed, as noted at the outset, there is a tendency to shy away from—or even outwardly disparage—language of fearing God. We see a breezy willingness to invoke the name of God to support (often conflicting) earthly causes. We find countless examples of public faith deconstruction that follow a suspiciously similar script and garner predictable applause. We hear talk about God that prioritizes edgy creativity rather than God’s own self-disclosure as received by the community of faith throughout time and space. Of course, it is not hard to recognize that beneath this bravado there is no shortage of fear. But we recall the encouragement of 1 Peter not to “fear what they fear.” Instead, we are called to “sanctify Christ as Lord.” This can only happen in the presence of the holy God, where we soberly recognize our deep need for Him. “The fear of the Lord is life indeed,” because it turns us humbly toward the One who is life itself.

Dr. Doug Koskela is Professor of Theology at Seattle Pacific University in Seattle, Washington. He is an ordained Elder in the Reach Conference of the Free Methodist Church.