When I was little, I used to run past the stuff I was afraid of. Dark rooms, big bugs, mean dogs – anything that frightened me I consistently passed by with as much speed as I could muster. The faster I moved, I reasoned, the less chance there was of the scary thing “getting” me.

We’re all a little (or a lot) afraid of something. Even as grown-ups. Maybe it’s crime, or natural disaster. Or maybe cancer terrifies us – or heart disease. Perhaps abandonment is a big dark room to some, or change, or hunger or solitude. We’re not just frightened for ourselves, either. We fear for our loved ones, too – and for the hidden dangers we can’t see or name, but know are out there just the same.

Flannery O’Connor found a name for this in the writings of St. Cyril of Jerusalem, who called it “passing by the dragon.” In St. Cyril’s words, “The dragon sits by the side of the road, watching those who pass. Beware lest he devour you. We go the Father of Souls, but it is necessary to pass by the dragon.”

O’Connor added, “No matter what form the dragon may take, it is of this mysterious passage past him, or into his jaws, that stories of any depth will always be concerned to tell…and it requires considerable courage at any time…not to turn away from the storyteller.”

Fear is natural, whether you’re young or old. But living in fear of fear is not. Arranging my days to avoid anything that might make my heart flutter out of time, or my breath become quick and shallow is not really living at all. Real living takes real courage, and real courage comes from knowing that God is present in every crisis – that “we go to the Father of Souls.” Shepherd/warrior/king David said it this way: “Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side. Your trusty shepherd’s crook makes me feel secure. You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies. You revive my drooping head; my cup brims with blessing.” (Psalm 23:4-5, The Message)

Those adrenalin-infused moments when we are passing by the dragon are the very times that our Father of Souls is nearest, ready with whatever it is we need most. And those are the times that our life takes on a depth and wildness that seasons us, and makes our stories rich and full.

Is the dragon near? Can you feel his hot breath and hear his heavy, thundering steps? Take heart. You are traveling through the valley. You are passing by the dragon. You are going to the Father of Souls, who is, even in this moment, nearer than you know.

“The steps of a man are established by the Lord; and he delights in his way. When he falls he shall not be hurled headlong; because the Lord is the One who holds his hand.” (Psalm 37:23-24, NASB)

© Leigh McLeroy 2005