The Unseen Dread, and Hope that Follows

I am a fan of the Star Wars movies, and have been since the first movie came out in 1977. When George Lucas revived the series in 1999 with the movie “The Phantom Menace”, I was initially thrilled. This post has nothing to do with Star Wars, and particularly is not a review of that movie. I bring it up simply because of the title. The movie’s title seemed to be the best way to describe the emotions that continue to brew following the loss of Jacob. 

There is no better way for me to describe the odd feeling. I can try to describe it by telling you what it is not. For instance, it is not sadness, but it is like sadness. It is not fear, or mourning, or emptiness, but it is like those things. It can simply be frustration directed toward that feeling, and in that way it is a feeling of its own. But there is no solid “thing” to be frustrated at. I cannot combat it, I cannot cure it, I cannot address it or yell at it or even kill it with kindness. I cannot erase it. It is a haunting-type feeling that rises and falls whenever it chooses. It is not triggered by any event (at least not most of the time). It haunts at night when my mind begins to settle in for sleep. It distracts during the day when I concentrate on work.

Perhaps the best description I have heard for this sort of thing is “dread”. The context here is, again, not fear but more like foreboding or apprehension. C.S. Lewis described it as the difference between knowing there is a hungry tiger in the room, and being told there is a ghost in the room. The tiger elicits fear – a “fight or flight” response is often triggered. The idea of a haunted house, however, is different. It causes concern over something that cannot be seen or otherwise observed with the senses. The concern is triggered by what might or could happen or what might or could be present, and in that way it is a menace.

The “phantom” nature of it makes the situation all the more difficult to deal with. I could describe it as a “guerrilla tactic”, using ambush and sabotage as its primary methods of attack. It causes apprehension, guilt, doubt, fatigue, and unnecessary worry. And once I began to realize the method of attack, and the nature of the menace, the source became clear to me.

From the temptation of Eve and then Adam (Genesis 3), to the temptation of Christ Himself (Matthew 4), the evil one does not strike head on. We rarely see the trap until its sprung. The slow slide, the awful creep, into worry and doubt and misery is part of the design. Our guard is slowly let down, and we begin to isolate ourselves from our loved ones. We reject help, and our world begins to shrink. Then, when we are so focused on ourselves and only ourselves, he strikes. Any concerted attack comes when we are at our weakest. Yet, despite this slide, brought about by an unmistakable dread, there is and always will be hope.

Saint Paul writes about hope often in his letters. This hope is lacking in some but as Christians we are able to cling to it, and I have the distinct impression that Paul wanted us to be absolutely confident that hope abounds. When Paul spoke about how even the Gentiles were reconciled with God through Christ, he specifically pointed out to them: “remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.” Eph 2:12-13. Paul uses words like “separated” and “alienated” and “strangers”. These situations can products, or causes, of dread. Paul’s words speak to me as an attempt to bring home the point that when we feel apart from God we are at our weakest, are most vulnerable, and are simply dreadful, because we lack one thing: Hope.  Yet, we are brought near to God because of Jesus. With hope, there are no more uneasy feelings of dread – just peace.