God sees the wayward feckless thug of a thought heading my way plotting an ambush, as roaring lions do. In advance of its negative turn, nearing nearer God sends a whispered 'Fear not', which meets my hearing heart the same time I catch glimpse of my enemy low in the bushes. Instead of my flesh, my enemy meets God's word. And roar meets sharp sword tearing asunder every half & twisted truth - Leaving only a firmer trust & a whistle in the wake of another one bites the dust.