Cheryl Brodersen - When a Woman Lets Go of Her Fears: The Amazing Power of Trusting God

Cheryl Brodersen

HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

EUGENE, OREGON

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Verses marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, IL 60189 USA. All rights reserved.

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WHEN A WOMAN LETS GO OF HER FEARS

Copyright 2010 by Cheryl Brodersen

Published by Harvest House Publishers

Eugene, Oregon 97402

www.harvesthousepublishers.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Brodersen, Cheryl.

When a woman lets go of her fears / Cheryl Brodersen.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7369-2792-5 (pbk.)

1. Christian womenReligious life. 2. FearReligious aspectsChristianity. 3. Brodersen, Cheryl. I. Title.

BV4527.B74 2010

248.86dc22

2009049481

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 / VP-SK / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To my Savior, Jesus.
My testimony of faith is due entirely to You.
Thank You for loving me and
working in my life.
Without You I would be lost.

This book would never have been written if not for the prayers of my precious friends and prayer partners. God moves mightily through loving and fervent womenthats you!

My gratitude to Terry, Carolyn, and those at Harvest House who were my tutors, encouragers, and instructors. Special thanks to Barb Gordon at Harvest House. She has an amazing ability to clarify and add a special touch of zing.

I am immensely thankful to my husbandthe love of my life. He is my protector, best friend, and the father and grandfather of the most amazing individuals in the whole world.

I want to thank my parents, whose constant love and faith have been sources of security and inspiration in my life.

Thank you all so much!

Q uietly I made my way through the bustling throng of women to the back row of the church that had recently hired my husband as a pastor. I sat down as far as I could from anyone else and hoped no one would notice me. I felt too awkward to socialize. I didnt know the women around me, and I was scared. I simply wanted to listen in on the womens Bible study.

An elegant woman stood behind the podium. She made announcements as I sat uncomfortably in my seat. The third announcement brought me to tears. She said that every woman who attended the study needed to be assigned to a group.

This is it, I thought. The idea of having to be in a group of women terrified me. It would require small talk and deep talk. It would mean having to open up, and that could mean rejection and hurt. Quickly I rose from my seat, tears blinding my eyes, and made my way to my husbands office.

He was concerned over my obvious trauma. I could barely speak but I tried to explain why I was so upset. They want me to sit in a group with women and talk! I just cant do it. Brian tried desperately to be sympathetic, but he couldnt understand how such a small thing could devastate me. I didnt completely understand it myself.

Years ago I was a young woman held in bondage by numerous fears. I was almost incapacitated by my fears, and the longer I entertained them, the greater their hold on every arena of my life became. How did I come by my fears? I simply picked them up along the path of life until I had an overflowing basket. One day I realized I was afraid of nearly everything that makes a full life. Not all my fears were justified or substantial. In fact, I think their extensive influence came by way of quantity rather than quality.

For instance, I had a fear of the dark. This is a common childhood fear, but I never shared it with anyone because it sounded silly even to me. One night when I was a child, the portable television set was left in my room. I was supposed to be sleeping but couldnt, so I quietly turned on the television, remembering to keep the volume low. On the screen was a story about a doll that was stealing the life of a little girl every night while she slept. The little girl would awake anemic, white, and with scratch marks on her neck. The doll on the dresser, which no one seemed to take note of except the cameraman, had glowing red lips and blood-red fingernails. I turned off the television and glared at the dolls on my dresser. The next day I tore a beautiful doll I had to pieces. Her crime? She had ruby red lips and red fingernails! From then on I hated being alone in the dark.

Other fears came from the playground at school. I remember watching some girls surround another little girl on the playground and taunt her mercilessly because she was wearing bobby socks rather than the fashionable knee socks they were attired in. I didnt want to experience the embarrassment she endured, and that day a fear arose within me of the public humiliation I might face if I didnt fit in. Years later, as an adult, I was still afraid of doing something that would prove I didnt really belong.

Other fears came from hearing the daily news. At any given moment something terrible is going on in the world. Knowing that awful things were happening constantly to unsuspecting souls, I logically concluded I could be the next unsuspecting soul. The cruelty of some men depicted on television and played out at the high school and college I attended gave rise to even more fears.

Many of my fears, no doubt, came about because of the attention I endured as the daughter of a nationally known pastor and his wonderful wife. Anyone who wanted to find something to use against them usually took a close look at my siblings and me for ammunition. I felt constant, critical eyes on me. And this fear of scrutiny was not without justification. Well-intended people were always asking me if some story theyd heard about me was true. More often than not the story was either embellished or made up altogether. Hearing these negative stories about me made me want to be invisible. I so wanted to be like everyone else.

On a few occasions young women approached me and felt compelled to confess that theyd disliked me when we first met. They explained their reason for dislike had been rooted in the fact that I was the daughter of Pastor Chuck and Kay Smith. Their jealousy made them dislike me. Now who can stand under that kind of scrutiny?

Like every girl and young woman, I had also gone through periods of rejection by peers. Friends that liked me one day found a better friend the next day. I remember hating to go on vacations when I was a child because while I was gone my friends usually found new friends. Youve heard the term Twos company, threes a crowd. Somebody who knew rejection obviously coined it.