GOING BEYOND FEAR: Through the Veil and into the Place Where We Beyond the - Outer Court

I have walked with God long enough to know that fear does not always appear as terror.

Sometimes fear sounds like wisdom. Sometimes it disguises itself as caution, practicality, humility, or common sense. It tells me that I am simply being realistic. It reminds me of everything that could go wrong and presents retreat as maturity. It persuades me to remain where I am, accept less than God has promised, and call my hesitation discernment.

But I have discovered that fear has one primary objective: it wants to keep me at a distance from the presence of God and from the life He has called me to live.

Fear is satisfied for me to remain in the outer court. It will permit me to be religious as long as I never draw near. It will allow me to work for God—as long as I never pass through the veil and live from union with Him.

The outer court is crowded with activity. There is noise, movement, sacrifice, and ministry. But beyond the veil there is something altogether different. There is intimacy. There is glory. There is the place where fear loses its voice because the presence of God becomes more real to me than the thing that threatens me.

When Jesus died, the veil was torn from top to bottom. God Himself opened the way. Hebrews tells us that we now have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, through the new and living way He opened for us through the veil.

I am no longer standing outside, hoping that one day I might become worthy enough to enter. The blood of Jesus has already made the way.

The Holy of Holies is not a place I am trying to earn. It is the place in which I have been invited to belong.

That is why fear must be confronted. Fear keeps attempting to persuade me to live outside what the blood has opened.

Fear says, “Stay back.”

The blood says, “Come boldly.”

Fear says, “You do not belong there.”

Grace says, “You have been brought near.”

Fear says, “You are still the person you used to be.”

The Father says, “You are My beloved son.”

Fear says, “The barrier is too solid.”

Faith says, “The way has already been opened.”

Get Up—Your Ride Is Outside

I will never forget a three-part dream the Lord gave me late in the evening of November 18, 2010.

In the first part, I saw myself asleep in a hospital bed. Dark spiritual entities were attempting to bring paralysis upon me. Their purpose was not merely to frighten me; it was to immobilize me.

That is always one of fear’s primary objectives.

Fear does not have to destroy me if it can paralyze me. It does not need to take away my calling if it can prevent me from answering it. It does not need to close the door if it can convince me never to walk through it.

As I lay there, I heard a command:

“Get up. Your ride is outside. Get up.”

The word of the Lord did not negotiate with my condition. He spoke directly to the part of me that still had to make a decision:

“Get up.”

I rose from that place with confidence and walked toward the entrance. Outside, I encountered a man holding a motorcycle helmet. There was a Harley-Davidson waiting, and a beautiful woman was seated side-saddle on the back.

The motorcycle began moving even though I could see no driver. It accelerated toward fifteen or twenty barriers that appeared completely solid.

As I looked at them, the thought came immediately: There is no possible way we can break through those barriers.

Then fear struck me.

The motorcycle was already moving. The journey had already begun. The direction had already been established. Yet the sight of what stood ahead suddenly challenged everything I believed.

I had a decision to make.

Would I trust what my eyes were telling me, or would I trust the One who had told me to get up?

Would I jump off the journey because of the appearance of the barriers, or would I remain where God had placed me and continue moving?

I stayed on the motorcycle.

As we reached the first barrier, something astonishing happened. What had appeared to be solid proved to be paper-thin. We passed straight through it.

Then we approached another barrier, and it also gave way.

Barrier after barrier collapsed before us. With every breakthrough, my faith rose. What appeared impossible from a distance had no power to stop what God had set in motion.

The Lord showed me that the woman represented the bride of Christ. The man holding the helmet represented the risen Christ, directing the journey.

The message was clear: nothing is impossible with God, and the grace required to overcome each obstacle would be released when it was needed.

I did not receive the grace for all twenty barriers while I was still looking at them from a distance. Grace met me at each barrier as I continued moving.

We often want to feel tomorrow’s grace before we obey God today, but grace meets us as we move.

God often does not remove the barrier from our sight. He invites us to move toward it.

The very presence of fear may be the very reason the Lord wants me to push past it.

When God has spoken, fear is no longer qualified to cast the deciding vote.

Fear is a reaction.

Courage is a decision.

Courage does not mean that I feel nothing. It means that what I feel is no longer permitted to govern what I obey.

When God’s Way Looks Impossible

I have come to recognize a pattern running throughout Scripture: when God is preparing to reveal His power, His instructions often appear impossible—and sometimes completely wrong—to the natural mind.

Everything in human reasoning said that Abraham and Sarah were too old to produce the promised son.

Everything said that Moses was the wrong man to confront Pharaoh.

Everything said that Israel was trapped at the Red Sea.

Everything said that Gideon needed a larger army.

Everything said that David needed armour.

Everything said that marching around Jericho was no way to bring down a fortified city.

Then God sent His Son into the world through a virgin and defeated the powers of darkness through a cross that looked like complete defeat.

God repeatedly chooses circumstances in which natural strength cannot take the credit. His wisdom belongs to a realm higher than human reasoning.

“The natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him” (1 Corinthians 2:14).

The natural mind evaluates everything according to what it can see, measure, predict, and control.

Faith receives its understanding from what God has said.

That motorcycle appeared to be accelerating toward certain destruction. Remaining on it looked irrational because the barriers appeared solid. But the barriers were not what they appeared to be.

The reality revealed by God’s Spirit was greater than the reality reported by my natural senses.

Fear says, “This cannot possibly work.”

Faith asks, “What has God said?”

Fear interprets the future through the barrier.

Faith interprets the barrier through the character of God.

If I reject God’s direction because it contradicts natural reasoning, I confine my life to what human ability can accomplish. I may remain respectable, predictable, and mediocre, but I will never discover the supernatural life for which I was created.

God often leads me to the boundary of my natural understanding and then asks me to trust Him beyond it.

That boundary is where fear raises its voice—but it is also where faith begins to see.

On that motorcycle, I felt fear. The barriers looked solid. Nothing in the natural suggested that we could pass through them. But the journey did not depend upon my ability to break the barriers. It depended upon the power of the One who had set the motorcycle in motion.

Fear exaggerates the strength of the obstacle and minimizes the faithfulness of God.

Fear tells me that I must be powerful enough to overcome what stands before me.

Faith reminds me that the power belongs to God.

Power, Love, and a Sound Mind

Paul told Timothy:

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7).

Paul did not say fear would never approach us. He said it did not come from God.

Fear may knock on the door of my mind, but it is not part of my inheritance and has no legitimate authority over my spirit.

God has given me power.

God has given me love.

God has given me a sound mind.

Fear attacks all three.

It makes me feel powerless. It causes me to question love. It fills my thinking with confusion, imagined disasters, and endless possibilities of failure.

But the Holy Spirit restores what fear tries to steal. He awakens power within me, anchors me in the Father’s love, and brings my thoughts back under the government of Christ.

The Spirit within me is not the spirit of retreat. He is the Spirit of resurrection, leading me beyond fear, paralysis, and a life controlled by human limitation.

Scripture also speaks of “the spirit of judgment and the spirit of burning” (Isaiah 4:4).

John the Baptist declared that Jesus would baptize us “with the Holy Spirit and fire.” On the Day of Pentecost, tongues like fire rested upon those gathered in the upper room.

The Spirit of God is a Spirit of holy fire.

His fire does not merely make me emotional. It purifies what fear has contaminated. It consumes the lies that have attached themselves to my identity. It burns through intimidation, passivity, compromise, and self-preservation.

Fear says, “Protect yourself.”

Fire says, “Surrender yourself.”

Fear says, “Remain where you are safe.”

Fire says, “Follow the Lamb wherever He goes.”

Fear says, “Preserve your reputation.”

Fire says, “Let Christ be seen.”

Fear tries to reduce my life to what can be explained naturally.

The fire of God calls me into a life that can only be explained by His presence.

Fear Makes Peace with Mediocrity

Fear is always willing to justify mediocrity.

It tells me that an ordinary, powerless, predictable Christianity is responsible. It convinces me that I should expect nothing that requires supernatural intervention.

It teaches me to pray prayers that will not embarrass me if nothing happens. It encourages me to construct a life that does not need faith, take risks that do not require grace, and pursue goals I can accomplish without the Holy Spirit.

But I was not called to mediocrity.

I was called to a supernatural life.

I was not born again merely to become a slightly improved version of the person I once was. I was born of the Spirit to carry the life of Christ: to pray for the sick, confront darkness, proclaim freedom, love the rejected, believe for the impossible, and carry God’s presence where fear has ruled.

This does not make me reckless. It makes me dependent.

The supernatural life is not about proving how courageous I am. It is about revealing how faithful He is.

If I wait until I feel completely fearless before I obey God, I may wait forever. Sometimes fear breaks only as I pass through it.

The barrier looked solid until the motorcycle reached it. Had I jumped off too soon, I might always have believed it was impenetrable.

How many barriers have we called permanent simply because we never moved close enough to discover what grace would do?

How many doors have we called closed without ever placing our hand upon them?

How many promises have we abandoned because fear interpreted the appearance of the obstacle for us?

There are things I will never learn about God while standing at a safe distance. Certain dimensions of His faithfulness are revealed only when I move toward what frightens me in obedience to His voice.

Perfect Love Is the Answer

Yet courage alone is not the complete answer.

I cannot overcome fear merely by shouting louder, thinking positively, or forcing myself to appear strong.

The answer to fear is perfect love.

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment” (1 John 4:18).

Fear is not permanently conquered by willpower; it is displaced by revelation.

When I know that I am perfectly loved, fear loses its foundation.

Perfect love does not mean that my love for God has reached perfection. It means that His love has reached me completely.

I am not trying to produce a flawless emotion toward Him. I am learning to rest in His flawless love toward me.

Fear asks, “What if God abandons me?”

Perfect love answers, “He will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Fear asks, “What if you fail?”

Perfect love answers, “His grace is greater than your weakness.”

Fear asks, “What if the barrier does not fall?”

Perfect love answers, “Even there, He will be with you.”

Fear asks, “What if you lose control?”

Perfect love answers, “You were never called to be in control; you were called to trust.”

The journey beyond fear is therefore the journey from the outer court into the Holy of Holies.

In the outer court, I remain conscious of distance. In the Holy of Holies, I become conscious of union and discover what Christ has already done to bring me near.

In the outer court, fear tells me that I may be rejected.

Beyond the veil, the Father’s love assures me that I am accepted in the Beloved.

In the outer court, I compare myself with others.

Beyond the veil, every lesser identity becomes silent in the presence of the One who calls me His own.

The deepest deliverance from fear does not occur when all my circumstances become safe. It occurs when I become established in the love of the Father.

When I know where I belong, intimidation cannot easily displace me.

When I know whose I am, rejection cannot define me.

When I know who goes with me, the barrier cannot control me.

The enemy wants me living at the edge of God’s presence, still wondering whether I have permission to draw near.

But Jesus did not tear the veil so that I could spend my life admiring the entrance.

He tore it so that I could enter.

He opened a new and living way so that I could live before the face of God—not as a frightened servant awaiting punishment, but as a beloved son welcomed by his Father.

I do not overcome fear by becoming preoccupied with fear. I overcome it by becoming consumed with love.

The more clearly I see Him, the smaller the barrier becomes.

The more fully I surrender to His fire, the less room remains for mediocrity.

Keep Moving

I hear the Lord saying again:

“Get up. Your ride is outside. Get up.”

Get up from the place where fear attempted to paralyze you.

Get up from the disappointment that convinced you never to try again.

Get up from the memory of failure.

Get up from the opinions that reduced your expectation.

Get up from the form of Christianity that taught you to survive when you were called to overcome.

Your ride is outside.

The journey is already under the direction of the risen Christ. The bride is going forward.

The barriers may look solid, but appearance is not authority. The grace you need may not yet be visible, but it will meet you as you move.

Do not jump off because fear suddenly strikes you.

Stay on the journey.

Continue toward the barrier.

What appears solid may prove paper-thin when touched by the purpose of God. What appears impossible may become the place where His faithfulness is most clearly revealed.

You were not given a spirit of fear.

You were given power to move, love in which to abide, and a sound mind with which to recognize the lies of the enemy.

You were given the Holy Spirit and fire.

You were called beyond mediocrity and into the supernatural life of Christ.

The veil has been torn.

The way is open.

The Father is not calling you to remain in the outer court, trembling at a distance. He is calling you through the veil, into perfect love, into holy fire, and into the place where you have always belonged.

Go beyond fear.

Enter His presence.

Remain in His love.

And when the barriers rise before you, keep moving.

Nothing is impossible with God.

Peter Nash