Willie Torres Jr.

Fear an invisible thread that ties every human heart together.

No matter our background, our faith, or our strength, fear finds us. Christians often speak of living without fear, trusting God completely, and believing He will make a way and guide us through sorrow and darkness. We quote Scripture with conviction, standing on His promises and reminding ourselves of His presence.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.” – Psalm 23:4 (NIV)

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” – Isaiah 41:10 (NIV)

Yet knowing the words and feeling them deep within our hearts can be two very different things.

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We repeat it in sermons, print it on wall vinyls and T-shirts, and decorate our homes with it as a reminder of faith over fear. Yet I have to ask, do we truly live it? Do we genuinely not fear?

If I am honest, I fail at this again and again. The difference between me and most people, especially my wife and our boys, is that I have learned how to hide it. I disguise my fear behind humor, behind encouragement, behind the mask of someone who seems unshakable. But beneath that mask, I am trembling like everyone else.

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Why do I fear? What is it that holds such power over me?
For me, it is death, the very thing Christ came to defeat. Hebrews 2:14–15 reminds us that through His own death, He broke the power of the one who held us in fear and set us free. Yet even knowing this promise, I still feel the weight of my humanity. I speak the words of faith, but inside I whisper, “Lord, help me truly believe.”

“Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death-that is, the devil-and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.” – Hebrews 2:14-15 (NIV)

Is it a lack of faith? Is it a sign of not fully walking in Christ? Is it doubt in the power of God, in His Word, in His promises? I would hope it is none of these. I would hope that it is simply fear itself. After all, we are human. There are certain things you just cannot shake off, no matter how deeply you are rooted in the Word.

I often think about the pain and struggles I deal with, and one of the reasons I fear death is because of the people I would leave behind, my wife and our boys. I wonder, could they handle another loss? Could they handle me passing away? I know for a fact that they could not. I am even afraid of how they would go on and survive without me here.

Is that selfish of me? Maybe. I know that when people are forced to survive on their own, they often find a way, but deep in my heart, I know they could not and would not. So, I take my chances living with the pain rather than risking surgery.

Now, let me explain. I am allergic to anesthesia, and in my life, I have fallen into two comas and had four near-death experiences. During one of them, the doctor almost gave up trying to revive me because I was not coming out. After my last surgery, I was told, “Whatever you do, live your life with full caution. If you ever have another major surgery, whiplash, or hard fall, the chances are you will not make it, especially if surgery is required.”

So this is my fear, not so much dying, but dying and leaving my wife and boys to face life without me. I fear not being there to care for them, to make sure they are okay, to guide them when they need me most.

And that brings me back to what this post is about. Is it okay to have fear when you are a believer, when you are following Christ, when you are a Christian? I could recite what Scripture says, and I know what the church and its leaders would say. But I disagree. It is not a lack of faith. It is the fear of leaving my loved ones to face sorrow, confusion, and the weight of life without me.

I know people do it. I know many families have lost a husband, a wife, or a child and somehow found a way to go on. Many, especially Christians, might question my faith and say that my wife and boys will find their strength in God. But I would say, you do not know my family like I do.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” –
Philippians 4:6-7

I remember being in my former small group, sitting among Brothers in Christ who often spoke about how they could not wait for the day of their death, the day they would finally be free, rejoicing in Heaven. They would talk about the beauty of that promise: no more pain, no more sorrow, no more tears. I have also heard pastors, leaders, and speakers remind us that this earth is not our home, that one day we will rest in eternal peace and harmony, reunited with our loved ones who have gone before us.

And I believe that. I truly do. The thought of seeing my dad and grandmother again brings comfort to my heart. The thought of embracing my baby brother, of sharing stories about the life I lived after he was gone, fills me with longing and hope. Yet, if I am honest, I am not ready to go.

Yes, I suffer here on earth. Yes, I carry pain that few people ever see, pain that is often unbearable. I fight my depression daily, though some days it feels like the depression is winning. I am tired. I am broken. My heart aches watching my wife and youngest son wrestle with their own battles; the pain, the discomfort, the sadness, the worry, the anxiety that weighs them down.

Life has not felt the same since the world changed after COVID. What was once simple joy and freedom has turned into fear and isolation. It feels like their fear went from a quiet whisper to a loud roar. And I am one who continues, and tends, to carry that load with me.

Another thing I do that goes against Scripture. The Word says to cast all anxiety on God, and all throughout the Bible it tells us that the weight of everything is not for us to carry on our own but to surrender to Him. We are not meant to carry so much.

For me, the weight is heavy. One of my health problems is a torn rotator cuff that requires surgery, so carrying anything should be out of the question. I’ve shared before, how I call it a basket of rotten fruit.

I carry this basket: my pains, my sorrows, my fears, my worries. And in that same basket, I hold my wife’s pain and sorrow, her fears, her anxiety. I carry my older son’s pain and discomfort, along with his sadness. And I carry the weight of my youngest, who, like his mom, deals with fear, anxiety, depression, and constant worry. Then there’s everyone else who comes to me with their struggles. My mom, too, is dealing with health issues, and everything that’s thrown into this basket, I carry it.

Sometimes I picture myself as a male version of Little Red Riding Hood, walking through the valley of the shadow of death with a basket full of rotten fruit. Because that’s what they are, rotten fruits. They are not fruits of the Spirit.

These fruits, I cannot eat because they are rotten. I cannot give them away because I would make others sick. And I cannot ask anyone else to carry the basket, because of my pride, another sin. So, I carry it on my own, even when it hurts, even when it’s too heavy.

But God, being the loving Father that He is, walks in front of me, reaching out, saying, “Give it to Me. I am here. I can bear it all.”

Is this you? Are you a carrier of rotten fruits?

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” – 1 Peter 5:7

Jesus said, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
– Matthew 11:28-30

Still, I have learned to mask it. Maybe that is why I have always been drawn to masked superheroes. They hide who they really are, revealing only what they want the world to see. The mask becomes their strength. For me, it is not about superpowers or courage. What I try to reveal to others is hope, not because I am strong, but because the Holy Spirit gives me words, encouragement, and strength that could only come from God. In my weakness, His strength is made perfect.

And when my own words fall short, I turn to His Word, the only place where my trembling heart finds rest.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” – Joshua 1:9 (NIV)

When fear feels too heavy and our strength seems to fade, this verse becomes more than just words, it’s a promise straight from God’s heart. He is with us in every struggle, in every silent battle we face. He sees the tears we hide and the weight we carry inside. Yet even in our weakest moments, His love never wavers. He lifts us up, steadies our hearts, and reminds us that we are never alone. His presence is the courage we need when our own begins to run out.

Because even when we are masked, God sees the truth behind it. And in His eyes, that truth, our weakness, our pain, and our faith become something beautiful.

As 2 Corinthians 12:9 reminds us, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” So I will choose to boast in my weakness, not out of pride, but because it is there that Christ’s power rests upon me.

Fear may try to hold me, but faith reminds me that God has already overcome. So even when my hands tremble, I will lift them in praise. Lord, help me walk in Your peace and trust that Your perfect love drives out all fear.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.” – 1 John 4:18

I received a text the other day from a relative that said, “God did not remove the Red Sea. He parted it. God does not always remove your problems, but He will make a way to get you through them.” How many of us fail to remember and believe this?
I know I believe, but sometimes I find myself questioning Him, wondering when and why.
Another thing we forget is that everything happens at His time, for His purpose, and for His Glory.

And so, I walk through this valley, carrying the burdens I should not, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I am weak, I am fearful, I am human. And yet, I am not alone. God sees me. He knows every trembling step, every tear I try to hide, every basket of rotten fruit I refuse to let go of.

Even in my weakness, His strength is enough. Even in my fear, His perfect love drives it out. I do not have to carry everything, and yet I try. I do not have to fight alone, and yet I often forget to let Him fight for me. But He is patient. He waits. He stretches out His hand and whispers, “Give it all to Me. Trust Me. I am with you. I will hold you, and I will carry your load.”

And in that moment, when I pause and hand Him even a fraction of the basket, I remember that this life is not mine to master, nor my family to protect alone. It belongs to God. Every sorrow, every fear, every burden, they are all His to bear. And in His hands, even the heaviest load becomes light.

I am still walking. I am still carrying. But I am learning. One step at a time, one prayer at a time, one surrendered moment at a time. Fear may follow me. Pain may try to overwhelm me. But I know the One who has already conquered death, who has already promised peace beyond understanding, and who holds my family, my life, and my heart in His hands.

And so I move forward, not with the illusion of strength, but with the assurance of His presence. For as long as I walk, I walk with Him. And that is enough.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:1-4, NIV

Heavenly Father, I come before You with open hands and a trembling heart. You know the weight I carry, the fears I hide, and the burdens I hold onto far too tightly. Teach me to release what was never mine to bear. Help me trust Your timing, Your purpose, and Your love, even when I cannot see the way forward.

Give me strength not just for myself, but for my wife and my boys. Cover our home with Your peace. Fill our hearts with courage when fear rises. Remind us that You go before us, behind us, and beside us.

And Lord, if anyone reading these words feels the same weight, the same fear, or the same longing I do, I pray You meet them where they are. Speak to their hearts, carry their burdens, and remind them that Your love never fails.

When our faith feels small, remind us that even mustard-seed faith can move mountains, not because of our strength, but because of Yours. Lord, part the seas before us. Help us walk where You lead. Hold our hearts steady and let Your perfect love quiet every fear within us.

In Jesus Name I Pray, Amen 🙌

Happy and Blessed New Year

Willie Torres Jr.

12/28/2025

@BeingCrazyForChrist

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