We usually think fear is a feeling.

Hebrews 2 says it is a ruler. The author doesn’t say we are bothered by fear or influenced by it. He says we are held in slavery by it like an invisible set of shackles that chain us to addictions, behaviors, and broken ways of processing the world around us. All our lives.

That should stop us for a moment.

Fear is not just something we experience. It is something that governs us like a cruel dictator.

Most of us are not afraid of dying today. But we are afraid of losing control. Afraid of being exposed. Afraid of obedience that costs too much. Afraid that if we really trust God, something precious might be taken from us. Afraid of being of being alone.

This is the fear of death. Not death itself, the fear of it.

Not just physical death. But the death of security. The death of identity. The death of comfort. The death of the version of life we are trying to protect.

Here is the provocative truth buried in this passage.

Fear is only powerful when death still feels final.

That is why the enemy’s grip is tied to death. Not because death is stronger than God, but because as long as death feels ultimate, fear feels reasonable. Self protection feels wise. Control feels necessary.

So what did Jesus do?

He did not come to give us courage tips. He did not minimize our fear. He stepped directly into the one place fear draws its authority from.

Flesh and blood.
Weakness.
Temptation.
Death itself.
The Devil’s den.

Jesus did not defeat death by sidestepping it. He defeated death by going through it. He drained it of its power from the inside. When he walked out of the grave, death no longer gets to speak with final authority.

And if death no longer has the last word, fear loses its throne.

This is why Hebrews says Jesus frees us from the fear of death, not just from death someday. The chains fall off now. Fear no longer gets to dictate how you live, love, give, or obey.

That does not mean you stop feeling afraid.

It means fear is no longer in charge.

Jesus knows what temptation feels like. He knows what suffering does to the soul. He does not help you from a distance or with platitudes or with pithy fortune cookie advice. He helps as someone who has stood where fear is loudest and remained faithful.

The gospel does not promise a safe life. It promises a free one.

And freedom begins when you believe that the worst thing has already happened and been undone.

Death has been faced.
Death has been defeated.
Fear no longer owns you.

Do Something

Name the place where fear has been making decisions for you.

Not the dramatic ones. The quiet ones.

Where are you clinging to control?
Where does obedience feel too risky?
Where are you protecting yourself instead of trusting Jesus?

Bring that place to him honestly.

Not with promises to do better.
Not with strategies to manage fear.

Simply say, Jesus, you already walked through what I am afraid of. Help me trust you here.

Then take one small step of obedience where fear used to lead.

Freedom grows there.