A commenter once said,
"You were trained to fear God.
I was born to question Him.
Is a god worth serving if fear is the leash?"

And I paused.

For in their words was fire—
a defiance cloaked in thought,
a challenge hurled at the heavens
as if thunder owed them silence.

But listen.
Let me speak—not in wrath, but reverence.
For I was not trained like a whipped dog,
nor brainwashed by blind tradition.
I was not taught to fear like prey,
but to tremble before the Holy One in awe.

Because I know fear—
but not the kind the Devil feeds on.
Not the trembling that empowers
the Deceiver,
the Accuser of the Brethren,
the Dragon,
Lucifer, the son of the morning,
the Serpent of Old,
the Tempter,
the Enemy,
Beelzebub, lord of the flies,
Belial, the worthless one,
Abaddon, the destroyer,
Apollyon, his Greek name,
the god of this age,
the prince of the power of the air,
the ruler of this world,
the father of lies,
Satan, the adversary,
Leviathan, the twisting serpent,
the angel of the bottomless pit,
Mammon, the god of greed,
the Lawless One,
the Man of Sin,
the Son of Perdition.
So many names—because he is a master of masks.

He thrives on your fear,
feeds on confusion,
mimics the light,
perverts truth.
But I was not born of him.
I was not shaped by his chaos.

No. I was born to fear the Lord.
The I AM.
The Ancient of Days,
The Alpha and Omega,
The Righteous Judge,
The Lion and the Lamb.

And my fear?
It is not slavery.
It is surrender.

It is not the leash of a tyrant—
It is the reverence due to Majesty.
For even Christ, in Gethsemane,
trembled.
He wept.
He asked, "Let this cup pass from me..."
And yet—He drank it.
Not because He was leashed by fear—
but because He was led by love.

You ask me if God is worth serving
if fear is the price.
But I ask you:
Is the storm not worthy of awe?
Is the ocean not sacred because it can drown?
Is the sun less holy because it burns?

I fear God—yes.
Because He could break me,
but chooses to build me.
Because He could condemn me,
but chose the cross instead.
Because He sees the abyss in me—
and still reaches in.

So no—
I was not trained like a beast.
I was born to kneel.
I was born to worship.
I was born to fear—but not like you think.

You see fear as a chain.
I see it as a compass.
You see questioning as freedom.
But even questions can serve the wrong master.

Your words were poetic.
But poetry can be a dagger
or a prayer.

And I,
by the mercy of the One I fear,
choose the prayer.