There is a story about the post–World War II Nazi trials. A Holocaust survivor had broken down when one of his former tormentors entered the courtroom. Later, a reporter, assuming the survivor to be shaken by the Nazi’s presence, asked for a comment. The Holocaust survivor answered that he was not crying because of the Nazi. He had been overwhelmed by the realization that he was as capable of cruelty as his enemy. Danish existential philosopher Søren Kierkegaard might have said that the Holocaust survivor had experienced dread.

In his book The Concept of Dread (published also as The Concept of Anxiety), Kierkegaard defines dread as the possibility of freedom before freedom’s realization. In other words, dread is a deep awareness of one’s own ability to act freely and the possibilities freedom posits. Kierkegaard wrote:

One almost never sees the concept dread dealt with in psychology, and I must therefore call attention to the fact that it is different from fear and similar concepts which refer to something definite, whereas dread is freedom’s reality as possibility for possibility.

As a Christian existentialist, Kierkegaard develops the book around Adam, the fall, and original sin. He divides dread into two categories: innocent dread and sinful dread. Since the fall, dread remains conditioned by sin. Kierkegaard classifies sinful dread as dread of evil and dread of the good. When a man sins, he hates the act and experiences anguish. He dreads evil and desires the good.

However, there are situations when a man is so far gone in evil that he is repulsed by the good and prefers the sin. Kierkegaard calls this demoniacal dread. In the last chapter of The Concept of Dread, he explains that the most difficult aspect of life is not reality but possibility. According to Kierkegaard, it is much easier to turn the present moment into a distraction than to face the possibility of descending into demoniacal dread, but if one wants to live authentically, he has to face the risks that come with freedom: “Possibility is therefore the heaviest of all categories. One often hears, it is true, the opposite affirmed, that possibility is so light but reality is heavy.”

One does not need to adopt a theistic view to sense the dangers in possibility. Man is capable of noble acts of selflessness. All the while, violence simmers just beneath the surface. Dread of the possible can paralyze a man when he realizes what it means.

Even though Kierkegaard does not put it in these words, it can be said that dread makes man aware of the precariousness of his existence. Life is never secure. A person looks for financial stability in a career, but anything can happen. He might get fired, or the company could fail. Another person tries to secure his life against loneliness through marriage but finds that his spouse is unfaithful. And looking far enough into one’s future always reveals death.

Kierkegaard thought that most people find the reality of the immediate moment more manageable than possibility. Life is much less frightening when we hide behind realities that convince us we are in control. The problem is that freedom and authenticity are lost that way.

When a man faces dread courageously, he finds that it is OK for life to be precarious. He might even discover that it is supposed to be that way. When a man stops trying to secure his existence, his life starts to make sense. The more he tries to secure it, the more confusing and frightening it becomes.

A recent case published by the medical journal Clinical Case Reports illustrates the point. A 20-year-old man requested amputation of the fourth and fifth fingers of his left hand. There was nothing wrong with his digits. He simply believed that they were bad for him. Doctors diagnosed the patient with body integrity dysphoria—the belief that a certain body part does not belong. Because the patient was distressed, a team of Canadian medical professionals decided the best course of action was amputation.

This young man adopted a false sense of reality (his body image) and sought security in a mutilated body, instead of accepting the uncertainty of living with a body that he might not like but is still his by nature.

In contrast, husband and father Corey Comperatore died shielding his wife and two daughters from gunfire at former President Trump’s Pennsylvania campaign rally on July 13. In an instant, Comperatore was confronted by the precariousness of life. He accepted it and saved his family. That one act made his life authentic and free.

Fear of precariousness has robbed us of the ability to transcend our own individual existences. We live as if there were nothing more than momentary experiences. The good news is that when we allow ourselves the courage to face what we fear most—uncertainty—we begin to truly live.