I am a bit camera shy. Point one my direction and I feel inhibited and self-conscious. I try to smile in such a way as to hide the ever-so-slightly droopy corner of my lower lip. I wonder if my hair is lying down and not sticking up in funny places as I work to control the coarse gray hair infiltrating my blond mane. So concerned am I about the way I look I can rarely relax. Therefore, I am frequently the one who volunteers to take the picture, rather than be the subject.

Now that you know of my bias, perhaps you will understand how completely amazed I am by Saddam Hussein’s love of self-portraits. Have you ever seen so many depictions of one man? How many times in the last three weeks have we watched American commandos kick in doors, then rush in —f irearms positioned and ready to fire — only to converge upon a completely empty room except for a portrait of the Iraqi dictator. Talk about in your face. Hussein kept Iraqi poster makers and framers, flag and statue designers busy. His raised hand of absolute authority loomed overhead.

We all know, however, that was the least of it. His legions of minders and militia and thugs brutalized the citizens of Iraq, doing all they could to crush private thought by employing the methodologies that work best with human beings: denying a citizenry economic independence and replaying absolutism and control and fear.

The great majority of us cannot begin to understand the depth of fear the Iraqi people have experienced since Hussein engineered the resignation of President Hasan al-Bakr in 1979. But we have been able to observe some of their reactions as British and American forces move throughout their country. While some have appeared suspicious and reticent, others have taken to removing their shoes and flogging dismantled statues and portraits. Both reactions are understandable and offer insight into the deep impact years of fear play in the lives of people simply trying to provide for their families and experience a level of personal as well as national dignity.

Fear. Plug that word into a search at any one of the Bible Web sites and you will discover scores of biblical references. Surprised? I am not, for fear is a universal human emotion. What is surprising, perhaps, is the way God uses the word in scripture when He speaks of our interaction with Him. Not only does God acknowledge that life will create fear in us and He can be counted on to faithfully respond to our fears, but God uses fear in a second way. Take Psalm 147, for example, in the Message Bible: “Those who fear God get God’s attention; they can depend on His strength.” The same verse in the Amplified Bible reads, “The Lord takes pleasure in those who reverently and worshipfully fear Him, in those who hope in His mercy and loving-kindness.” Taken together, both versions add to our depth of understanding, but still leave us wondering why God wants us to fear Him unless we dig a bit deeper to understand that the word fear in this context means, “profound reverence and awe.” God wants us not only to be able to detect His presence in any given situation but also to actively respond.

The God of the Bible is not dictatorial or revengeful. He takes pleasure in people and longs for interaction with us — no matter if we give Him our sorrows or anger, joys or laughter. In the book of Matthew, the apostle Matthew (also called Levi) explains the concept this way: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” While Matthew was speaking directly to the issue of prayer here, the biggest and best news is this: God draws near to us first and waits patiently. If we knock on His door, wanting to investigate who awaits and what experiencs we might have together, He will greet us with arms of love. He will not bring us down — even if we knock as wounded and broken souls, searching one last room for forgiveness and answers.

It is perhaps the image of commandos, storming through closed doors, that have touched me so deeply this week as I watch the war with Iraq on TV. I remember all those years ago when I quietly knocked on God’s door. There was some fear attached to my choice, as I did not know God well. But I knocked nonetheless. And the amazing God who greeted me offers love and mercy and compassion today to the Iraqi people as he does you and me, half a world away.

Freelance writer Joan Bay Klope’s e-mail address is

jbklope@hotmail.com