The Monster Named Fear

When the child was very young, the child was taught that there was a closet inhis or her bedroom; and the child was taught that in the closet there was amonster. And the monster's name was Fear.

And the child was warned that the monster should never be let out of the closet.If the child did not obey, surely God would punish the child. And then, when thechild's body died, the spirit of the child would be put into a devastating placecalled hell; the child's spirit would be punished, tortured, and burned formillions of years into eternity.

And the child was warned that, if the monster was let out of the closet, asupernatural evil force would take over the child's mind and soul and requirethe child to do acts of evil, leading to the child's soul being punished by Godby burning in that eternal hell.

And the child was continually taught to believe that there would be people whoon occasion would try to persuade the child to open the closet door to let Fearbe released and that the child should recognize that these people trying topersuade the child were wicked people who hated God; and the child was taughtthat God would punish these people, for surely the child would recognize thatthese people were agents of the supernatural evil force that was an enemy ofGod.

The lessons were so reinforced in the child, that the monster was not onlycontained in the bedroom closet, but also in the mind and heart of the child.

As the child grew older, Fear was accepted through continued reinforcement. Thechild was too young to question and understand what he or she was being taught.The child only knew that somehow he or she would learn how to live with Fear andwould always be on the alert to recognize the enemies of God, who might try topersuade the child at various times in life to release the monster.

Was it not the responsibility of these teachers and preachers to give the childthe strength and vigor to contain Fear in their hearts and to recognize God'senemies when they would try to persuade the child to live otherwise by releasingthe monster Fear?

When the child became an adult, the closet grew larger, the monster grew larger,and the teaching had succeeded. For the child, who was now an adult, had learnedto live with Fear. In fact, these lessons that had been learned so well enabledthese adults themselves now to become teachers and preachers, teaching theirchildren that this monster also lives in their closets, and that their childrenshould also protect and respect Fear.

On the morning of October 15, 1997, my colleague, Brian Hilliard, and I walkedinto the aging building of the newspaper publishing house in St. Paul,Minnesota, where the child who was now an adult was waiting for us. He wasleaning on the counter as we entered the lobby. He was wearing a gray cardigansweater, and wire-rimmed glasses were pressed against his silver hair.

As I approached him and shook his hand, I immediately recognized by his bodylanguage, his forlorn look, and his animosity, that the child who was now a manhad resigned himself to having lived with Fear. And, by his wary looks ofsuspicion and frustration, he recognized me as the enemy, a person who hadrejected Fear, a person who was trying to corrupt the minds of others by tryingto persuade them to open their closet doors and throw the monster out of theirlives.

We walked up a flight of stairs into a nondescript conference room. The manmotioned for Brian and me to sit across from him. He took out a pencil and a padof paper. He cautiously looked at me over the lenses of his glasses, with hishead slightly bent, his face masking a painful scorn, and began the interview.

He was the religion editor of the newspaper. I did not know if he hadvolunteered, or had been assigned the task of interviewing me. I only knew thathe was engulfed in great discomfort and that Fear had been successful incontrolling this man's heart and soul for many years. I asked him if he had atape recorder, so that my remarks and comments could be quoted correctly. Hetold me it would not be necessary, for he would take careful notes, as hispencil poised above his lined pages.

I knew the questions that he was going to ask, for he was not a stranger to me.I had met him in many other cities across America the previous few months that Ihad traveled. Sometimes he would wear a tie, sometimes a sweater, sometimes adress. Sometimes he was tall and thin, other times short and heavy, and evensometimes a pretty lady. No matter what the outside image, I always recognizedthe child that had grown into an adult. An aura of gloom was worn like aninvisible garment around the man. Although it couldn't be seen, it could besensed, felt; it almost was capable of being touched and tasted. It was the auraof Fear.

He began to ask me the same questions I had heard many times, in the same warytone, with the same discernible hint of scorn and discontent. He told me hewould write his notes as I gave my answers. I placed my chin on my right hand,my elbow resting on the pine-colored wood conference table, and I closed my eyesas I carefully answered his questions.

Brian and I had just flown into the "Twin Cities" on a 6:00 A.M. flight fromCleveland, and the day before had flown into Cleveland on a 6:00 A.M. flightfrom Memphis. This was the twenty-seventh city of my book tour, and although mycommitment to share what I knew to be truth had never waned, I was tired. Surelythe man would not object to my resting my head as he took his careful notes.

He asked me why I claimed that the story of the apostle Paul was not accurate.Did it not say in the Bible that Paul was on his way to Damascus from Jerusalemto persecute Jews in Syria when they had accepted Jesus as the Messiah? Did notJesus then appear before Paul, temporarily blinding him, and did not Paul thenmake a conversion?

I explained to him that Paul was not in a position to persecute anyone. I askedhow it would have been possible for a person of the Jewish faith to travel 140miles from Jerusalem to the foreign country of Syria, to persecute Syriancitizens because he did not like the way they were practicing their religion? Iasked, would it not have the same probability that Iraqis from Baghdad couldtravel to Minneapolis to persecute Christians because they were not practicingthe Islamic religion?

I carefully answered the man's question by explaining that, when Jesus came toPaul in the desert outside the gates of Damascus, Paul did not make aconversion. There was nothing to convert to. It was Paul who foundedChristianity several years later. So, how could Paul convert to something thatdid not yet exist? It was a commitment that Paul had made. Not a conversion. Acommitment to spend the rest of his life teaching the messages of God and Jesus.And it was the pre-medieval church, four hundred years later, that insisted oncalling Paul's commitment a conversion.

As I carefully answered his questions in a quiet and gentle manner, I had triednot to arouse the monster Fear. But I could feel Brian continually poking me inmy ribs with his right elbow. I thought, what do you want, Brian? Surely thisman does not take offense to my resting my head on my hand, as he is taking hiscareful, copious notes.

It was only later, after the interview, that Brian told me that he was poking mebecause the man had not been taking notes. Instead, he had been staring at meincredulously, as he had tracked from one question to another. His years oftraining had recognized me for what I was. Was I not the enemy of God he hadbeen warned about as a child? Was I not truly influenced by the supernaturalevil force? Was I not speaking words that were attempting to persuade others toopen their closet door and remove Fear?

How dare I explain that two thousand years ago there was a dump outside of thecity of Jerusalem called Gehenna? And that the people of Jerusalem would bringto Gehenna their refuse, their throwaways, and that the dump burned twenty-fourhours a day. And when one person would get mad at another, they would say injest or in anger, "Go spend the rest of your life burning in Gehenna." How dareI claim that the English translation of Gehenna was "hell" and that Gehenna wasthe model for the fourth-century church for the creation of the concept of hell.

How dare I attack fear. Where would people's souls go when God punished them, ifI were to convince people of my lie? No wonder the man sat engulfed in Fear,unable to write my words with his poised pencil, but instead to stare at me withcontempt.

Weeks later I read the following excerpts of his article in his newspaper. Hedid not share my words of universal love or universal compassion. Instead, hecomposed his own words of Fear. Some of the excerpts were as follows:

The Messengers OffersLittle Help on Spiritual Journey

... Finally, God has allowed us to meet the apostle Paul, and he is one slick andcool hombre.... Bunick claims his life has been radically changed by the angelicmessage that seeps into his brain every day and laps over into flashy booksabout spiritual messengers.... I decided to speak with the fellow during his TwinCities visit in desperate hope that all is not bogus in the world of today'sreligion.... He informed me that God speaks through him.... When I asked Bunickabout his own Damascus road experience, he lowered his head, placed his hands athis temples and began to recite, as if in a trance.... Bunick says he can slip inand out of the St. Paul personality when he wants.... During the hour I spent withBunick, no sexless, long-haired, 7-foot tall angels appeared.... What aura ofmysterious gas has dulled our sense, allowing this story to captivate theintellects of thousands—hundreds of thousands—of otherwise sane people? This isnot the truth One truth about truth remains: It is a hard-fought discovery andalmost beyond human grasp. Perhaps there is one other: You can't get there fromthe pages of The Messengers.

The man asked me as I was leaving, "Why do you believe we have to come backagain? Isn't life miserable enough that we don't have to do it again?" To thisday I feel sorry for the man who never learned to release Fear and never learnedhow to enjoy the journey we are all on.

Several weeks earlier, in the friendly confines of Kansas City, I delivered a90-minute presentation in the beautiful auditorium of the national headquartersof the Unity Church. It was a mini-version of the three-hour symposium I waspresenting across the United States. The event had been billed as an "authorappearance," but the approximately two hundred people who came to thepresentation knew that my words, instead, would be a sharing of the messages ofJesus and Paul, as I knew them to have been spoken two thousand years ago.

At the completion of my mini-symposium, I allowed time for people to askquestions. As always, a feeling of love and sharing had been created during thepresentation that now filled the auditorium hall. I often think of it as thecreation of sacred space, for I can feel the energy and love emanating from thehearts and souls of my audience; I can feel the presence of their angels. Thatday was not an exception.

As I stood on the stage behind the podium of this impressive facility, with asmall portable microphone attached to the collar of my shirt, I saw a petite,elderly woman in the rear of the hall raise her hand, and I acknowledged her.She asked in a very quiet and hesitant voice, "Do you believe that Jesus diedfor our sins?"

I looked across the auditorium at this loving, gray-haired lady with sadness inmy heart. I could feel the pain of the burden she had been carrying all theseyears. Why, God, have they taken this child, who is now a senior adult, andconvinced her to carry this guilt all these years of her mortal life?

I slowly and gently responded by asking her, "Are you referring to the sins thatyou were told you were born with as you entered this world from your mother'swomb, or to sins you committed during this lifetime?"

In her hesitation to answer, the entire audience turned their eyes toward her. Icould feel them sharing my compassion, wanting to reach out and embrace her withlove, to open her door and allow Fear and his companion, Guilt, to be releasednow and forever.

She momentarily stumbled as she replied, "Well, I guess the sins I committed inthis lifetime."

I answered, "What sins could you have committed in this lifetime, two thousandyears after our beloved Brother died on the cross, for which you would take theresponsibility of his death? If Jeshua (Jesus) was with us today, not only inspirit, which he is, but standing next to me on this stage, he would tell youthat he lived for you, not died for you. He died on the cross to show his lovefor God and his commitment to God's messages. But he lived for us, not died forus. And he would never ask you to carry the burden of that guilt."

I prayed in my heart that she would understand my answer. I prayed, "God, pleaserelease her from this burden so she can experience the love of Jeshua (Jesus) inher life without the burden of guilt. Please, God, allow her to release from herfragile shoulders, from her kind heart and loving mind, the incredible burden ofthe belief that she somehow is responsible for our beloved brother dying on thecross two thousand years ago. Please, God, allow to be erased the feeling ofguilt that the teachers and preachers of Fear and Guilt had put upon her, sinceshe was a young and vulnerable child."

Crossing the Threshold

There may come a time in your life when you reach a critical point and are facedwith a major decision. There will be a threshold in front of you, and you mustdecide whether or not you are going to cross that threshold or turn your back toit. And in making that decision, once having crossed that threshold, your lifewill never be the same again. Having crossed that threshold, it will have been adecision of no return.

Come with me to that threshold. Be there with me, for I want you to evaluate inyour mind what you would have done, if you had to make the decision whether ornot you would have crossed that threshold.

Let us pretend that you are a woman in your early forties. You have two youngchildren who are teenagers in high school. You live in a modest neighborhood ina friendly town; you like your neighbors, and in turn, you have their respect.Your husband is employed in a middle management position for a small localcompany. You took a job as a bank clerk several years ago to earn additionalmoney for the college education of your children, and because it had beendifficult getting ahead on just your husband's income. You grew up in a familythat believed in God, and, like your parents before you, your family goes tochurch occasionally, although you do not think you are overly religious.

One day you receive a phone call from a woman friend who invites you to visither on Saturday, so that the two of you may spend some time together. She liveson the outskirts of town, a mile or so off the main road, where there areattractive woods and the houses are far apart. When you arrive at her home,there is a note on her door telling you she had to run an errand and that shewould be back in an hour. "Make yourself at home." It is a beautiful spring day,so you decide to take a walk along the dirt road next to her home. The roadtakes you deeper into the quiet woods, further from the main road. As you enjoyyour peaceful stroll, you are conscious of the sounds of nature around you; thefresh country air; and the smell of the pine trees, the firs, and the cedars. Toyour right there is a lovely piece of property with a sign announcing that it isfor sale.

Your heart and mind is at ease, and you are grateful to have these quiet momentsto yourself. All of a sudden you hear a strange, loud popping noise to yourright, the kind of sound you made as a child when you blew up a paper bag withthe air from your own breath and then smashed it with both your hands. You arestartled, and, as you turn towards the sound, your entire body freezes and yourheart begins to pound. Standing in front of you is an angel, a beautiful angel,translucent, bluish and white in color, with wings by its sides.

The angel is smiling at you, and the fear leaves your heart. But you areparalyzed with the awe and excitement of this incredible moment. The thoughtflashes through your mind for several seconds that you wish somebody was therewith you to witness what you are experiencing.

You hear the angel's voice, but you are not consciously aware if it is speakingout loud or if the words are being spoken in your mind. But there is no questionor doubt as to what she is telling you. The angel is telling you in a gentle,quiet, loving voice that God wants you to become a messenger to others of God'slove, and of the plans God has for the future of mankind. The angel is tellingyou that God wants you to purchase this property in front of you, and to build ashrine memorializing this experience you are having, that you should leave yourjob and spend the rest of your life teaching others to have faith in God and tolove one another.

You are told that God has given you free will. It is your decision either toaccept the responsibility that God is asking you to undertake or to reject it,and instead, continue life as it has been. The angel suddenly begins to growfainter to your vision, and you now find yourself alone, in this beautifulsacred spot.

What do you do? Do you run home to your husband and share the news? Do youcontact the local media and share your experience? Do you leave your job, buythe property, and begin to build a shrine? If you go public with your story,will people believe you? What effect will it have on your husband's job? Howwill it affect your children and their lives? Will your neighbors becomeuncomfortable around you? Which friends will support you and which ones willshun you, certain that you have lost your mind?

Would you cross that threshold?