Chapter 1
When Fear Becomes a Constant Companion
Have you ever been so afraid that your body physically collapses? At just five years old, I became convinced I was dying of appendicitis after skimming through the children's book Madeline. This wasn't just childhood imagination-it was the beginning of a lifelong battle with fear. My "nervous stomach" arrived shortly after my parents divorced, and it followed me everywhere. One day, convinced my appendix was rupturing, I dramatically collapsed in aisle six of Winn Dixie. Yet another doctor confirmed I was perfectly healthy, suggesting I "stop reading the encyclopedia so much." Scarlet Hiltibidal's raw and refreshing memoir "Afraid of All the Things" has resonated deeply with millions who struggle with anxiety, becoming a bestseller that celebrities like Kelly Clarkson have praised for its honest approach to faith and fear. Unlike many Christian self-help books that offer simplistic solutions, Hiltibidal's work has been embraced across denominational lines for its authentic exploration of how the gospel intersects with our deepest anxieties.
Chapter 2
From Green Rooms to Gut-Wrenching Anxiety
Before fear took hold, my childhood was surprisingly glamorous. My mom was on Saturday Night Live, and we lived in Connecticut where I spent time backstage with comedians, eating lemon pound cake and watching Adam Sandler jump through fake glass windows. Life was full of trampolines, swing sets, and happy yellow flowers surrounding my bus stop. So much laughter. So much joy. Nothing to be afraid of.
Then came the barbecue day when everything changed. My mom whisked me away to an office building where she spoke in hushed tones about legal fees while I painted with pink Wite-Out. Suddenly we boarded a plane to Los Angeles-just me and Mom. Poof, we were gone. I remember eating white rice at a sushi restaurant and realizing my stomach hurt. It never really stopped.
My dad was gone-gone, not just "gone" like when he'd perform magic tricks. My stomach hurt constantly, my life felt weird, and no one seemed stronger than the spiders that terrified me. One morning, a daddy longlegs on the toilet paper roll left me unable to use the bathroom for hours.
When my mom read Joshua 1:9 from my little blue leather Bible-"Haven't I commanded you: be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go"-my anxious mind twisted this comfort into another burden. I thought God was commanding me to be strong when I felt weak, requiring courage when I was terrified. How could He love me if I felt everything wrong?
What I didn't understand then was that this verse wasn't just a random quote-it was God speaking to Joshua after Moses died, telling him to lead the Israelites into enemy-occupied territory. God wasn't condemning Joshua's fear but comforting him: "I will not leave you or abandon you." His promise wasn't about my performance; it was about His presence.
Chapter 3
The Desperate Search for Safety in a Broken World
Growing up as a frequent flyer between LAX, LGA, and MIA, I memorized safety procedures better than the flight attendants. Initially fearless, I'd stroll the aisles making adult friends. Then I learned planes could crash, and flying became terrifying-until a flight attendant told me airplanes had giant springs underneath that would bounce them back into the sky if they fell. This sweet lie bought me years of peaceful air travel.
As I aged, I believed more comforting lies about having control over my safety: avoiding certain neighborhoods, sitting behind drivers for crash protection, walking instead of driving to avoid accidents. These lies provided temporary comfort but never true peace. Nothing I control can prevent a truck explosion on the interstate, cancer in loved ones, or a mosquito carrying West Nile virus. There are no preventative measures against miscarriages or late-night accident calls.
Airplane springs aren't real, and neither is "safety" in this broken world. But we don't need to fear-God alone makes us "live in safety" while we simply "lie down and sleep in peace."
When fear consumes us, we often turn to distractions-makeup artistry, spin classes, hobbies-that create shallow identities incapable of bearing life's weight. These Jesus-replacing pursuits collapse when real pain breaks through. Our identities shouldn't revolve around jobs, people, or appearances, as these only compound our fears.
Sometimes fear disguises itself as frustration. One morning, while rushing my children to the car-one screaming toddler, another who spilled water everywhere-I wasn't consciously afraid, just annoyed. After cleaning up and barking "NO TALKING, SCREAMING, CRYING, OR PANICKING" at my children, I played the Bible app, which landed on Luke 12: "Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." God's message pierced through my huffing: I wasn't just stressed about being late; I'd forgotten I was His.
Chapter 4
When Self-Reliance Feeds Our Deepest Fears
After our neighbors across the street were robbed of dozens of guns, I insisted we install a security system in our Miami home, causing one of our biggest marital fights. As a new mother with heightened anxiety, I was adamant despite my frugal pastor husband's resistance. I won the battle for the ADT system, but still didn't feel safe-because no alarm could fix my heart.
No moat deep enough or security sign large enough could provide true safety. When we look inward, we find hearts that are "deceitful above all things" (Jeremiah 17:9). Looking outward, we see messages about self-reliance, alarm systems, gated communities, and twelve-step programs. While these things can help, they can't protect us from disease, disaster, or terror.
It's strange to fear a book-especially parts of one. For years I ran from the Bible, the very thing that could give me peace, because I focused only on the parts I didn't like. I didn't want pain or suffering; avoiding them was my mission. I'd dismiss my fears with casual explanations-"daughter of a SWAT cop," "anxious person," "realist"-making them part of my identity.
When I'd glimpse people with genuine peace, my cynicism would dismiss them: "They must have a crutch." I wanted God's Word to promise nothing bad would happen if I followed Him. Instead, it warned of hatred, difficulty, and dark valleys. But I missed the most important part-His promise to be with me through it all.
My anxiety revealed a faith problem, a struggle to trust God. As John Piper notes, "Much anxiety comes from little faith." The solution wasn't self-focus but Christ-focus. The cross reminds me I am both broken AND loved, worth the death of God's Son.
Chapter 5
Finding Peace in the Storms We Cannot Control
When we traveled to China to adopt Joy-a nearly four-year-old with no ears who couldn't hear, walk, or communicate-I faced my flying fears. With our one-year-old and five-year-old, we embarked on a fourteen-hour flight over the North Pole to Beijing.
Before our trip, my five-year-old overheard Brandon and me joking about crashing over the North Pole or Russia. She approached me fearfully: "I don't want to go to China anymore...I don't want to die in a plane crash." Instead of inventing airplane springs or other comforting lies, I told her the truth-planes rarely crash, but sometimes they do. People die in sinkholes, car crashes, and from falling meteors. But God, who loves us deeply, controls everything. If He wants us in heaven, it doesn't matter where we are. Jesus defeated death and if He has work for us on Earth, He'll keep our plane aloft.
To my surprise, the Holy Spirit used these words to cast out her fear. "Oh! Okay," she chirped, "I still want to go to China, then." The sweet truth of God's sovereignty proved more powerful than any comforting lie.
My friend Kelly survived an actual plane crash-Air Florida Flight 90, which crashed into the Potomac River in 1982. She was one of only five survivors. Initially, Kelly thought, "God must be really mad at me." But over time, her fear transformed into faith. Despite experiencing a plane crash and later losing an adult child to a car accident, Kelly remains one of the easiest laughers I've ever met-genuinely kind, funny, and supernaturally calm. Her peace and joy, despite tremendous suffering, can only be explained as God's miracle.
Chapter 6
When God Calls Us Beyond Our Comfort Zones
I've never actually asked God not to move me to Africa, but I've wanted to. I feared God would either make my husband move me somewhere that gives you "automatic leprosy" or haunt me with guilt for not "answering the call." My anxiety made me believe that surrender to God would only mean suffering.
I avoided "missions people" out of fear they'd pressure me or judge me. But when my friend Anna told me, "If God wants you to move to Africa, you're going to want to move to Africa," something shifted. Standing in my kitchen one day, I confronted my fear that God would take everything I loved if I drew close to Him. Instead, the Holy Spirit responded with gentleness and Scripture, reminding me that God is the giver of good gifts and the God of all comfort.
Now instead of avoiding missions that might make me miserable, I look for missions that move me with joy. I've realized that in God's kingdom, joy can come even with discomfort. Not everyone is called to Africa or to have leprosy, but all Christians are called to the Great Commission in whatever way God leads them.
My mission wasn't Africa but China-a communist country where speaking about Jesus is forbidden. God gave me joy and peace as my husband, I, and our two daughters flew to bring home a new family member, a nearly four-year-old who wasn't walking or communicating. What seemed scary became my heart's desire, and the blessings have been immeasurable.
During a small group discussion on Romans 12-about how the body of Christ has many parts with different functions-we shared the unique callings God had given each of us. One family wanted to foster middle school boys, another felt called to children's ministry, while my husband laughed about our desire to adopt a deaf girl with no ears. We realized God truly gives different people different desires, gifts, and places to serve.
Chapter 7
When Our Bodies and Dreams Fail Us
I knew my doctor wouldn't deliver good news. Clearing my throat shouldn't burn my stomach, and "concerning blood work" didn't suggest kittens and butterflies inside me. But I hoped anyway. Young enough to carry a guitar-shaped purse with bleached hair streaks that changed color biweekly, I was actually glad to leave my "not it" job early for this appointment.
Before leaving, I made desperate promises to God, scribbling Psalm 56:11 in my journal: "in God I trust, I will not be afraid." I hoped writing the words would transfer belief to my heart. Instead, I woke up to IV bags of strangers' blood after emergency surgery for a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. My dying thought wasn't fear of death but fear for my soul, desperately praying a childhood rhyme: "If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."
After nearly a week hospitalized, I returned home immobilized and angry. The journal where I'd written "in God I trust, I will not be afraid" now seemed a mockery. I felt betrayed by God. I'd specifically prayed for this baby-me, who wasn't even a "kid person" growing up. At 24, God had been changing me, and I'd felt ready for motherhood. When I got that positive pregnancy test before Christmas, exactly as I'd prayed for, it seemed like divine confirmation.
I expected God would perform some miracle that would astound doctors and lead people to Him. But my miracle never came. As a "geriatric baby Christian"-long-time Baptist but only beginning to understand my need for a Savior-I was still battling the "am I good enough" mentality. My desperate dying prayer had exposed my shaky faith to myself.
After surgery, I was thrust back into a life I couldn't participate in. Before the trauma, I'd been constantly busy-teaching 4th grade, writing a novel, serving at my husband's church. Now sidelined, I had too much time to think and realized I'd been putting my focus in the wrong place. The gospel takes focus off our striving and puts it where it belongs-on the cross, where Jesus' victory became ours.
Chapter 8
The Transformative Power of Weakness
Being weak feels terrible, but fainting into the strong arms of God is perhaps the most wonderful feeling on earth. Paul begged God to remove his "thorn in the flesh," but God responded, "My power is perfected in weakness." God knows our pride-how we crave validation and admiration. But He also knows this pursuit never satisfies.
Our fallen nature craves self-glory, but it's not our achievements that showcase God's grace-it's our helplessness. Embracing weakness and living in full dependence on God's strength is life-changing. Often in our weakest moments, we most tangibly feel God's nearness and can display His power in ways that direct glory upward.
Maybe your fear isn't cancer but something else-job loss, unfaithful spouse, sick child, or unhealed injury. Whatever it is, take comfort in God's Word. Cancer can weaken a body, but God shines brightly even through death. For Christians, death means life either way. We can feel sad feelings without hopeless ones, because "to die is gain"-our broken bodies die, but we finally fully live.
There are physical diseases worse than cancer-incurable ones where death brings relief from pain. But even worse is the spiritual reality of souls afflicted by the hopeless disease of sin who haven't accepted God's grace. We encounter them daily, holding their only hope on our tongues, yet often not sharing it because we fear awkwardness.
When my friend regularly visited a likely heroin addict to help her family, I felt uncomfortable. Her response-"It's not hard at all"-convicted me deeply. I was once just as lost and hopeless, desperately needing someone to show me the way. Even now as God's child, I forget how needy I am. We can fearlessly love the sick and poor because we are them, but we've been healed by love.
Chapter 9
Finding Our True Identity as Adopted Children
When I was little, my SWAT-team dad would regularly "torture" my stuffed platypus Googles in creative ways when I returned from school. Years later, my daughters found their own comfort objects-Ever bonded with a pink lamb named "Boop," while Dewy had a fluffy dog called "Dee" (or "Dewy's Boop").
When we adopted Joy from China, we brought potential comfort toys, but she rejected all soft things, instead forming attachments to a miniature pink frisbee and small blue pitcher. Having owned only the clothes on her back and a small pink bow (which we lost on day two), Joy clung desperately to these objects-a clear sign of her fear of being without.
Understanding our spiritual adoption is one of the surest ways to move away from fear. Scripture repeatedly emphasizes this truth: "When the time came to completion, God sent his Son... to redeem those under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons" (Gal. 4:4-7). We are "no longer a slave but a son," and therefore heirs.
When we began our adoption journey, we faced a daunting "Special Needs Consideration List"-pages of medical conditions ranging from minor to severe. Brandon and I sat in bed, answering in unison to most conditions. But when we reached "deafness," something unexpected happened-we both wanted to check "yes" without knowing why.
Minutes later in the shower, fear crept in and I questioned our decision. Praying aloud, I asked, "God... why am I doing this? Why would I ask my family to adjust their lives in such a dramatic way?" The Holy Spirit immediately answered, "Look how I adjusted My life for you." Remembering Christ's sacrifice for my adoption into His family flooded me with peace before I'd even dried my hair.
Despite all our preparation and my confident declarations that "Even if this adoption ends up a worst-case-scenario, I'm not afraid," reality hit hard when we met Joy. This starving, developmentally delayed, fearful, flailing, tiny deaf girl awakened fears I thought I'd conquered. My pride was instantly exposed-I'd secretly believed I was "stronger" than the "weaker" parents from our training who struggled.
Chapter 10
Embracing Life in the Face of Death
My grandpa died on a Tuesday in April, which led to our family touring a cemetery while my five-year-old daughter, oblivious to the somber occasion, shouted "THIS IS THE FUNNEST DAY EVERRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!" at the mention of going to a restaurant afterward. While initially mortified, we all burst into laughter, and my dad wisely observed, "Grandpa is with Jesus right now. For him, this is the funnest day ever."
Though I hadn't cried much when I first received the text about his death, the reality hit when I saw his body and, for the first time, held his now-cold hand. In that moment, I felt closer to him than ever before, imagining him in his glorified body. Grandpa's greatest legacy was teaching our family about the hope we have in God-the reason we can find joy even amid grief.
Birthdays shift from joyful to bittersweet as we age and become aware of mortality. While children skip and laugh through their birth-month, adults often struggle with these milestones. I felt this acutely at my daughter Brooklyn's first birthday, simultaneously celebrating her growth while grieving that she was moving away from babyhood and toward a world of inevitable heartbreak.
We named her Brooklyn Hope-Brooklyn meaning "from the land of the broken"-acknowledging that while bringing a child into this broken world is terrifying, there is hope. As Christians, we can reject the myth that sadness underlies every happy moment. My sister-in-law captured this perfectly when asked if she felt old on her birthday: "I'm going to live forever. How can I feel old?"
I don't know whether my two miscarried babies were boys or girls, or if I'll recognize them in heaven. But God has shown me His redemption in their stories. In late summer 2013, when I lost my second baby, another little one was born in China and abandoned-Joy, who would later become our daughter.
I'm not saying one child replaces another, but while broken things happen in this world, good things happen too. I can't comprehend God's sovereignty, but I'm thankful that I now get to kiss Joy's face every day and tell her she's loved and ours forever. This is God's business-bringing dead things to life and creating growth where nothing could flourish.
Chapter 11
The Journey from Fear to Freedom
I was terrified when my sister asked me to give the matron of honor speech at her wedding. My speech-making history consisted only of an awkward sixth-grade class president campaign, and I had a consistent record of panicking under pressure. In tenth grade, I'd even run off stage crying during my All American cheerleading routine.
For weeks I practiced my toast, keeping notes on my phone. Despite a monsoon forcing the outdoor wedding into a barn, the ceremony was dreamy under twinkle lights. But just before my speech, my incessant screen-touching erased all my notes. Miraculously, my toast was a hit-I didn't panic or run off sobbing. This was evidence of change, proof that I'm not the same person I was at twelve. God is constantly in the beautiful business of making me new.
Our fears from the past can keep us from fruitful things now, or "what if" fears about future discomfort prevent us from being used by God. I've wasted years withholding love because I feared what it would cost me in comfort and freedom. That's the lie our not-yet-new hearts want us to believe-that isolation and control bring peace. But peace isn't a quiet life; peace is a quiet soul.
As a stressed six-year-old in 1992 Miami, I slept through Hurricane Andrew, a Category 5 storm that caused $25 billion in damages. While adults prepared with hurricane shutters and emergency supplies, I was oblivious to the danger, focused instead on my nightly ritual of ensuring a full nine hours of sleep.
Most nights I'd stay awake worrying about not falling asleep, but ironically, the night before Andrew, I slept peacefully through the most destructive hurricane to hit Florida. When I woke, our neighborhood was destroyed. Years later, watching Hurricane Harvey threaten my loved ones, I realized: we can't find safety on our own. We are "palm trees in violent winds," weaker than the rising waters. But Psalm 3:3 reminds us that God is "a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head."
Preach the gospel truth to yourself constantly. Get the Bible in your face, ears, and on your lips. Surround yourself with friends who are so full of God's Word that it spills out of them in every conversation. The years I spent with such people coincided with years when my fears receded. We walk together, pray together, and hold each other up through scary things, then come out the other side amazed: "Jesus really was enough again." That's what we'll be saying for eternity, circled around His throne, when everything scary will be dead and gone forever.
