Easter 2026 - Reading #2 - Fear of the Lord
Reading
The Psalms are saturated with the language of holy fear. The psalmist writes: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. His praise endures forever" (Psalm 111:10). And again: "The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring forever; the rules of the Lord are true, and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb" (Psalm 19:9-10).
The psalmist does not experience the fear of the Lord as oppressive but as desirable, sweeter than honey, more precious than gold. In Psalm 34, this paradox deepens: "Come, O children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the Lord. What man is there who desires life and loves many days, that he may see good? Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking deceit. Turn away from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it" (Psalm 34:11-14).
Throughout the Psalms, the fear of the Lord is consistently linked not to dread but to blessing, wisdom, abundance, and the good life. It is the posture from which all genuine flourishing begins, the soul rightly oriented toward its Creator, neither groveling in terror nor strutting in presumption, but standing in joyful, reverent attention.
Reflection
On the second day of our Easter journey, the Psalms reveal something essential about the fear of the Lord: it is not the enemy of joy but its wellspring. The psalmist who trembles before God is the same psalmist who dances before him. The same voice that says "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" also says it is "sweeter than honey." These are not contradictions. They are the complementary movements of a soul that knows it is loved by a God of infinite power and infinite tenderness.
We have just come through Lent, a season that taught us, among many things, our own smallness. The ashes on our foreheads, the emptiness of our fasting stomachs, the honest examination of our failures, all of it was a school of humility. Now, in the Easter season, that humility does not vanish. It is transformed. The fear of the Lord takes the raw material of Lenten humility and sets it ablaze with wonder. We are small, yes, but we are small before a God who conquered death. We are dust, yes, but we are dust that God has chosen to fill with his Spirit.
As we continue through this first week, let the fear of the Lord settle into you not as anxiety but as amazement. The God who made the galaxies knows your name. The God who raised Christ from the dead dwells within you. That should make you tremble, not with dread, but with the kind of holy electricity that comes from standing in the presence of a love too vast to fully comprehend. This is the foundation. Everything else we receive in the weeks ahead will be built upon it.