As soon as I saw the sign, a shiver of indecision ran down my spine. Part of me wanted to pull my shoulders back, raise my head, and charge onto the muddy trail. The other part of me wanted to turn tail, run to the car as fast as possible, lock myself in, and comfort my pounding heart with chocolate and caffeine. I was the one who wanted to visit the state park. I was the one who had been complaining about not doing enough walking. It was my bright idea to go for a hike that day. But that was before I knew alligators occupied the trail!

The sign at the entrance of the trail warned hikers that alligators were present in the area, and while they mainly feed on small animals, they have been known to attack humans. Well, isn’t that just lovely!!! That sign changed everything. I didn’t want to hike anymore. I wanted to run. . .in the opposite direction. I no longer felt the need to explore that part of Florida. And the courage I had gained through my years of hiking was gone in an instant. I was the same cowering little girl I was when we first started trekking through the woods all those years ago, only then I was afraid of bears. Now, it was alligators.

My heart raced with each step we took. Every sound made my skin crawl and my breath catch. On several occasions, I gasped and cried out, “What was that?” My neck grew achy from the constant craning to see in every direction. My eyes grew tired from squinting into the distance for any indication that I was about to be some gator’s midday meal. I was on guard, keenly aware of my surroundings. Every time I would try to relax, I heard another snap or splash, and any effort to pry my shoulders out of my ears was aborted. I was determined I would not be attacked unawares. And, in the process, I was miserable. Not exactly the stress-free hike I was hoping for.

I thought back to those early years of hiking when I was terrified of coming face to face with a bear. The anxiety was real and threatened to steal my joy every time we set out on a trail. But over time, something happened. Well, technically, something didn’t happen. I didn’t meet a bear. Trail after trail after trail—no bears! After a while, I didn’t even think about it anymore. I hiked in freedom, no longer fearful of “the big bad bear.” I knew they were there somewhere, but experience had shown me that they really had no interest in me. Go figure! So, I learned to relax. I didn’t even realize how much until my fear took on a new persona— the gator.

Of course, with the way my mind works, it wasn’t long before I was exploring the spiritual application of this situation. It all boils down to balance. The truth is, there is an enemy out to get us. The Bible makes it clear. Satan is prowling about like a roaring lion, seeking those he wants to devour. The enemy is real. The threat of attack is guaranteed. And we need to be on guard.

That being said, there is a difference between being aware and being scared out of our socks. Awareness is good. It keeps us from growing too complacent and allowing the enemy to slip in unnoticed. Fear, however, is not good, and it doesn’t help us at all. It steals our joy, confidence, and peace. And it makes life much like my recent hike—miserable! Fear keeps us so consumed with the enemy that we forget to focus on the pleasant things around us and the One who’s watching over us. Yes, my friends, there is a delicate balance between being aware and being alarmed, and we would do well to achieve it.

In case you’re wondering, we did see an alligator that day. About halfway through our trek, I heard a large splash and turned around to see if I could spot the source of the noise. In the water a few yards away, a three-foot alligator swam lazily around the edge of the pond, giving no indication he knew we were there. Determined to keep it that way, we headed off into the woods away from the scaly creature. In the end, I was able to say, “Been there, done that!” Whether or not I’d do it again, well, that all depends on whether or not I get a handle on that balance we've discussed.