TEN YEARS GONE: Fear Not (Revised)

Called by Name in a Season of Testing

First published Thursday, January 7, 2016. Revised March 21, 2026.

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.

— Isaiah 43

This reflection was first written in early January of 2016, at the edge of Epiphany, when the Church was turning toward the Baptism of Christ and the beginning of His public ministry.

At that time, the emphasis felt fresh and forward-looking. A new year had begun. The words “fear not” sounded like a banner over the road ahead.

Now, reading them in mid-Lent, they land a little differently.

Lent is not the season of bright beginnings. It is the season of testing, repentance, and quiet endurance. And perhaps that is exactly why this promise matters so much here.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”

Isaiah does not say, “Do not fear, because nothing hard will happen.” He says, in effect, do not fear because you are known. You are claimed. You are not wandering through suffering unnoticed.

In 2016, I connected this promise to baptism, and I still would. The baptism of Christ is a startling moment of humility. He enters the waters not because He needs cleansing, but because He is stepping fully into our condition. He places Himself in the hands of John and identifies with the people He has come to save.

That act still matters in Lent.

For Lent reminds us that belonging to God is not a shield from struggle. It is the assurance that struggle does not define us. The One who calls us by name is the same One who walks into the wilderness, toward opposition, and ultimately toward the Cross.

So the command “fear not” is not a slogan for an easy year. It is a deeper word than that.

It means that even in uncertainty, even in self-examination, even in the long middle stretch where joy is quieter and clarity comes more slowly, we are still held.

We are still known. We are still seen.

We are still His.

What was once a New Year’s encouragement now reads, in Lent, as something steadier: not the excitement of a fresh start, but the confidence of being remembered by God.

And that, too, is enough to quiet fear.