Beyond Being Scared: The Awe of His Presence

Let’s be honest. The phrase ‘fear of the Lord’ can feel jarring, can't it? It sounds like something that belongs in a bygone era, a command to cower before a distant, angry deity. We live in a world that tells us to fear nothing, to be the captain of our own soul. So, when we read in the scriptures that 'The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge,' it can create a friction in our spirit. Is our faith meant to be rooted in terror? Is God waiting for us to flinch so He knows we’re paying attention? I want to tell you today, with all the pastoral love in my heart, that the wisdom of God in that verse is deeper, richer, and far more beautiful than you might imagine.

The biblical concept of the **fear of the Lord** is less about being scared *of* God and more about being awestruck *by* Him. It’s about a soul-shaking, life-altering recognition of who He is in all His majesty, power, and holiness. It’s the moment your perspective shifts so radically that everything else in your life has to be re-evaluated and realigned. Think of Simon Peter, a seasoned fisherman, a man who knew the sea better than he knew himself. He’s washing his nets after a long, fruitless night of work. Then a man he barely knows, a teacher from Nazareth, steps into his boat and gives a simple command. The catch that follows is so impossibly large that the nets begin to break. In that moment, Peter isn't just impressed. He is undone. He falls at Jesus’ knees and says, 'Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord.' That is the fear of the Lord. It’s the sudden, overwhelming realization that you are standing in the presence of the Holy, and it changes everything.

When Jesus called Peter and Andrew, His invitation was simple, yet the implication was total. He didn't hand them a five-point plan or a detailed itinerary. He just said, 'Follow me.' And their response tells us everything we need to know about the power of His presence. They didn't hesitate. They didn't ask for a transition period or negotiate their terms. The Bible says they 'straightway'—immediately—left their nets and followed Him. Their entire identity, their livelihood, their family legacy—it was all secondary to the call of the Man who stood before them. This wasn't a decision born of fright, but of a sudden, undeniable clarity. They had just seen the one thing, the one Person, worth more than everything else combined. That is the beginning of knowledge. It’s seeing Him for who He truly is and responding with awestruck allegiance.

And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men. And they straightway left their nets, and followed him.— Matthew 4:19-20, KJV

The Heart That Turns Back

This initial awe, this moment of profound recognition, is meant to cultivate a continuous posture of the heart. It’s not a one-time event but a daily orientation. True **reverence for God** is what happens after the miracle. It’s the response that follows the blessing. Jesus paints this picture for us with heartbreaking clarity in the story of the ten lepers. Here are ten men, isolated from society, their bodies decaying, their futures erased. They cry out in desperation, 'Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.' And in His boundless compassion, Jesus heals them all. Every single one. As they walk away, their skin is made clean, their lives are restored. Can you imagine the euphoria? The sheer, unadulterated joy?

But the story doesn't end there. In the midst of that joy, something profound happens. One of them stops. While the other nine are rushing forward into their new lives—and who could blame them?—one man turns around. The scripture says that 'when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God.' He didn't just feel gratitude; he performed it. He didn't just whisper a thank you to the heavens; he fell on his face at the feet of the Healer. This one man understood that the gift was inseparable from the Giver. The other nine received a healing, but Jesus says to this one man, 'Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole.' There is a difference between being healed and being made whole. Wholeness comes from the relationship, from the turning back, from the posture of reverence. The fear of the Lord is the heart that always, always turns back to give glory to God.

This is the great divide we see throughout the Gospels. It’s the difference between the publicans who heard John the Baptist and 'justified God,' and the Pharisees who 'rejected the counsel of God against themselves.' It’s the choice to respond to God’s power and presence with a humble, grateful heart, or to see it, analyze it, and ultimately dismiss it because it doesn’t fit our agenda. Nine men walked away with clean skin. One man walked away with a clean heart, made whole by his reverence. The fear of the Lord isn't about what you can get from God; it’s about recognizing that He is all you truly need.

And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God, And fell down on his face at his feet, giving him thanks: and he was a Samaritan.— Luke 17:15-16, KJV

Reverence or Rejection: There Is No Middle Ground

If the fear of the Lord begins with awe and is lived out in a posture of gratitude, it is ultimately grounded in a sober understanding of God’s authority and His justice. This is the part of the equation our modern sensibilities struggle with most. We love the idea of a God who is a treasure hidden in a field, a pearl of great price worth selling everything for. And He is! But He is also the Lord of the vineyard who will hold His tenants accountable. He is the King who will one day send His angels to separate the wicked from the just. To ignore this aspect of His character is to worship an incomplete, and therefore false, god.

Jesus tells a chilling parable about a vineyard owner who leases his property to husbandmen. When the time comes to collect the fruit, they beat the servants, stone them, and even kill them. Their disrespect and rebellion escalate until the owner makes a final, desperate appeal. He sends his own beloved son, thinking, surely, 'They will reverence my son.' It is a heartbreaking line. It reveals the deep, longing desire of the Father for His authority to be rightly acknowledged, for His Son to be honored. But the husbandmen see the son not as a reason to repent, but as an opportunity to seize everything for themselves. They kill him. The consequence is swift and absolute: 'he will come and destroy the husbandmen, and will give the vineyard unto others.'

This parable is not a threat; it is a revelation of reality. A holy and just God cannot and will not coexist with rebellion forever. The **fear of the Lord** is the wisdom to understand this. It is the clarity to see that God's love and God's justice are not opposing forces; they are two sides of the same coin of His perfect holiness. It is understanding that there will be a day of judgment, a 'furnace of fire' for 'them which do iniquity.' This knowledge doesn't push us away from God in terror; it should draw us closer in repentance and awe. It makes us cling to the cross, where His perfect justice and His unfathomable mercy meet. It teaches us that the safest, wisest, most joyful place to be is living in reverent submission to the King who is both our Savior and our Judge.

Having yet therefore one son, his wellbeloved, he sent him also last unto them, saying, They will reverence my son. But those husbandmen said among themselves, This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance shall be ours.— Mark 12:6-7, KJV

So, what does the fear of the Lord actually mean? It means seeing Him so clearly that you drop your nets. It means being so grateful for His touch that you are the one who turns back. And it means understanding His authority so profoundly that you joyfully submit your entire life to Him. It is not a dread that paralyzes you, but an awe that mobilizes you. It is the beginning of all knowledge, the foundation of all wisdom, and the source of a life that is not just healed, but truly made whole. May we be a people who walk in this holy, beautiful, and life-giving fear of the Lord.