2/16/25 Sermon
Harriet Tubman stood in the darkness, her heart pounding as she listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. If they caught her, she’d be dragged back, beaten, or worse. Fear wrapped around her like a chain, tightening with every breath.
She spent her entire life as a slave, trapped in a world defined by fear. Would she be sold away from her family? Would the master’s whip cut her back today? Would she ever be free?
The unknown terrified her.
But something else burned inside her — a longing, a desperate urging, a whisper of something greater.
Freedom.
And with that longing came a voice, not just from within her own soul but from the God she trusted. And that voice was calling her to go.
So, she went.
Harriet ran through the swamps, her bare feet cut by thorns, her lungs burning with effort. Fear told her to turn back, to stop, to surrender. But she kept moving, because she knew she wasn’t alone. She let go of the fear and chose faith, believing that the same God who had parted the Red Sea for Moses would make a way for her.
When she crossed into Pennsylvania, a free state, she fell to her knees and wept.
She was free.
But Harriet knew that freedom was not just for her alone. She knew that there was no freedom for anyone if there wasn’t freedom for everyone. And She understood the words of Christ: “Theres no Greater love than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.” So, she went back — again and again and again — rescuing over seventy enslaved men, women, and children.
Fear whispered that she’d be caught, but faith reminded her that she was on a mission from God. “I always told God,” she later said, “‘I’m going to hold steady on You, and You’ve got to see me through.’” And God did.
Nelson Mandela ran his hands along the rough stone walls of his tiny prison cell. Robben Island had been his home for years, the outside world had become a distant memory to him. He once dreamed of freedom, but as the years dragged on, he wondered if his fear had been right all along.
What if he’d made a mistake? What if his people would never see justice? What if everything he had sacrificed was for nothing?
Anxiety whispered in his mind, telling him he already lost. But he refused to listen. Instead, he turned to prayer. He studied Scripture. He remembered the God of the Exodus, who had led the Israelites out of bondage and into the Promised Land. He believed that justice was not just a human hope but a divine promise.
Instead of letting fear break him, Mandela used prison to strengthen his resolve. He read. He wrote. He debated with fellow prisoners. He trained his mind the way a soldier trains his body — turning fear into fuel, turning anxiety into wisdom.
When he was finally released after 27 years behind bars, the world expected him to be bitter. They expected him to look for revenge. Instead, he chose forgiveness, living out the words of Christ: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you”.
When he was sworn in as South Africa’s first Black president, he thought back to that prison cell that had once been his world. He’d been locked away for nearly three decades. But the real prison had never been the walls. It had been the fear. And he had freed himself long before he walked out of that cell because he had placed his faith in a power greater than oppression.
Temple Grandin sat at the edge of the lunchroom, gripping her sandwich tightly, hoping no one would notice her. The noise was unbearable to her — trays clattering, voices overlapping, chairs screeching against the tile floor. It felt like a thousand needles piercing her skin. She just wanted to disappear.
School had never been easy for Temple. She was different and everyone knew it. She didn’t understand social rules, didn’t know how to make eye contact, and the other kids never let her forget it.
“Hey, weird girl!” a voice taunted. Laughter followed.
Temple clenched her fists. She wanted to run, but to where? The world outside wasn’t any easier for her. Everything — sounds, textures, sudden movements — felt overwhelming. The anxiety never left. But through it all, her mother’s love never wavered, and neither did the belief that she was made with purpose. Psalm 139 declares, “I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Though others dismissed her, God didn’t.
Then One summer, Temple visited her aunt’s cattle ranch in Arizona. It was a almost a revelation for her — no noisy lunchrooms, no fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, just the steady rhythm of nature. One day, she watched as the ranch hands led a nervous cow into a squeeze chute — a device designed to hold the animal still. As soon as the metal sides pressed gently around the cow, something amazing happened. The animal calmed down. Temple stared, fascinated.
It reminded her of herself. She’d always found comfort in deep pressure — wrapping herself in blankets swaddling herself like a baby, or by pushing herself against the walls of her room when anxiety became unbearable. What if I built one for myself? she thought. So she did.
When she got back home, she built her own hug machine — a wooden frame that applied gentle, even pressure, just like the cattle chute. And It worked. For the first time in her life, she felt a sense of control over her anxiety. And that’s when it hit her. If she could understand what made animals feel safe, she could change the way the world treated them. She saw in creation the wisdom of a Creator who designed all things with care, and she knew she had a calling.
She traveled to stockyards, studied how animals moved, and redesigned livestock handling systems that reduced stress, fear, and pain. She fought to be taken seriously, publishing research, speaking at conferences, and proving her theories worked. And slowly - Very Slowly, people began to listen.
And now Today, over half of the cattle processing plants in the U.S. use Temple’s designs, making slaughterhouses more humane. But her influence didn’t stop there. She became a professor, a best-selling author, and a worldwide advocate for autism awareness. She used her voice to tell others, that “Different does not mean less.” She, like Moses, had once doubted her own abilities, but through faith, she found her voice and her purpose.
Harriet, Nelson, and Temple all faced fear. But like the disciples in our reading today from the Gospel of Mark, they learned that fear doesn’t have the final say. When the storm raged and the disciples panicked, Jesus calmed the waters, reminding them, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?” Faith does not mean the absence of fear; it means the presence of God in the midst of fear.
The disciples, like us, often struggled to trust that Jesus was in control. But the truth is, faith isn’t about seeing the outcome — it’s about knowing Who is in the boat with you. Harriet, Nelson, and Temple each faced overwhelming storms. But they trusted that their stories were held by Someone greater, just as we should trust that our lives are not just a series of random events but part of God’s redemptive plan.
Now, Moving from relying on and trusting fear to relying on and trusting faith requires both surrender and action. First, we acknowledge our fear and bring it before God. Because what happens is that fear loses its power when we name it and offer it up in prayer.
Then, we take a step forward, even when the path is uncertain - maybe especially when the path is uncertain. Like many who’ve come before us, we should recognize that faith isn’t about never stumbling — it’s about stepping out, knowing that we’re upheld by something greater than ourselves.
And Faith is built in the small moments of discipleship — when we choose reflection over panic, trust over turmoil, and gratitude over worry. It’s cultivated through intentional practice, seeking wisdom, reminding ourselves of our purpose, and surrounding ourselves with a community that supports and uplifts us. And Over time as our faith grows through practice, patience and discipleship, we see that faith isn’t about eliminating the fear, but faith is about walking forward in courage despite of our fear.
Faith isn’t about eliminating our fear, but faith is about walking forward in courage despite of our fear.
When we take these small steps consistently, we slowly begin to see transformation - both in ourselves and in the world around us. But it’s like weight loss. You don’t notice it to day to day - these small steps of change. But one day you look in the mirror and you can’t believe what you’re seeing. And so The more we trust in the process, the more we recognize the strength that’s always been within us. And we begin to see how this faith isn’t just giving us courage - but it allows us to see the courage we already have inside of us. And remember - Courage isn’t the absence of fear but Courage the decision to move forward anyway. We’re called to live boldly and courageously
- not because we don’t have any doubts -
but we live boldly and courageously because we refuse to let those doubts define us.
When we lean into trust, fear loses its hold, and we step into the fullness of who we’re meant to be. First, we acknowledge our fear and bring it before God, just as the psalmist cried out, "When I am afraid, I put my trust in You" (Psalm 56:3). We do that because Fear loses its power when we name it and we offer it up in prayer. Then, we take a step forward, even when the path is uncertain. Like we talked about two weeks ago, Peter, when he saw Jesus walking on the water, stepped out of the boat despite his fear. And even He faltered and his fear got the best of him, Jesus was there to catch him. Likewise, faith is not about never stumbling—it is about stepping out, knowing that God will uphold us.
So as people of faith, as people who follow Jesus, When we’re faced with fear, we have a choice. We can let it paralyze us, or we can surrender it to the One who calms storms. Jesus didn’t promise us a life free from hardship, but He did promise that He would be with us through it all.
Fear may rise, the winds may howl, but the One who walks on water is still calling us forward. Will we trust God? Will we, like Harriet, Nelson, and Temple, step forward in faith? The greatest leaders in history didn’t live without fear. They lived despite of it — because they knew Who was leading them. And if they could trust, so can we.
