Enough with Worry
I originally posted this in 2009. While reading today, I decided it hasn't expired yet!
Worry sits on the
back row of the English as a Second Language class. He’d prefer the front row,
but by the time he caught the city bus and endured the evening traffic, the
best seats were taken. His hands still smell of diner dishwater where Worry
worked since six this morning. Within twelve hours he’ll be at the sink again,
but for now he does his best to make sense of verbs, adverbs, and nouns.
Everyone else seems to get it. He doesn’t. He never diagrammed a sentence in
Spanish; how will he ever do it in English? Yet with no English how will he
ever do more than wash plates? Worry has more questions than answers, more work
than energy, and thinks often about giving up.
Worry thinks her
son should wear a scarf. Today’s temperature won’t warm beyond freezing, and
she knows he will spend the better part of his lunch hour throwing a football
across the frozen grass. She knows better than to tell him to wear it.
Twelve-year-olds don’t wear scarves. But her twelve-year-old is prone to throat
infections and earaches, so she shoves a wrap into his backpack next to the
algebra homework that kept them both up past bedtime last night. Worry reminds
him to review the assignment, gives him a kiss, and watches him run out the
door to board the awaiting bus. She looks up at the gray sky and asks God if he
ever air-drops relief packages to weary moms. “You have one needing some
strength down here.”
Worry woke up at
5:30 a.m. today struggling to breathe and feeling like the dream about being
run over by a semi wasn’t a dream and he looks for tire marks along his back
and legs. My phone is constantly calling me. Three emails had come since
midnight and all of them urgent. A family was having a crisis with their
children. A husband and wife contemplating their future and whether they will
stay together. A dad has lost his job and feels that he can’t go on. I pull the
cover over my head and try in vain to return to the blissful world of sleep
that knows nothing of pain, divorce, agony and iPhones. But it was too late. I
was awake and there was no going back. I climbed out of bed, dressed, and
slipped out of the house into the silent roads and drove to the office. I
grumbled, first about the crowded calendar, next about my poor time management.
Worry unlocked the door, turned on the computer, then opened the daily
devotional, and smiled at the first verse: Jesus’ definition of worry.
“That is why I
tell you not to worry about everyday life – whether you have enough…” (Matthew
6:25 NLT)
Whether you
have enough. We worry about not having enough.
Do I have enough
time?
Do I have enough
energy?
Do I have enough
patience?
Do I have enough
money?
Do I have enough
love?
Do I have enough
education?
Do I have enough
wisdom?
Do I have enough
forgiveness?
Do I have enough?
We are running out
of everything, so it seems, so we worry. But worry doesn’t work. Fret won’t
fill your belly or get anything done. What’s more, you can dedicate a decade of
anxious thoughts to the brevity of life and not extend it by one minute. Worry
accomplishes nothing.
Suppose I had
responded differently to the uninvited wake-up call. Rather than tackle the
task, suppose I had curled up in a fetal position and bemoaned my pathetic
state. “The people expect too much. Everyday another problem. Every problem a
new challenge. Why, not even Jesus could bear up under such stress. I may give
the wrong advice. And when I do, people will hate me and find a new pastor. My
wife will be humiliated, my children made fun of. I think I’ll have Jack
Daniel’s for breakfast.”
See what happened.
Legitimate concern morphed into toxic panic. I crossed a boundary line into the
state of fret. No longer anticipating and preparing, I took up membership in
the fraternity of Woe-Be-Me. Christ cautions us against this. Look at how one
translation renders his words: “Therefore I tell you, stop being perpetually
uneasy (anxious and worried) about your life” (Matthew 6:25 AMP).
Jesus doesn’t
condemn legitimate concern for responsibilities but rather the continuous
mind-set that dismisses God’s presence. Destructive anxiety subtracts God from
the future, faces uncertainties with no faith, tallies up the challenges of the
day without entering God into the equation. Worry is the darkroom where
negatives become glossy prints.
A friend saw an
example of perpetual uneasiness in his six-year-old daughter. In her hurry to
dress for school, she tied her shoelaces in a knot. She plopped down at the
base of the stairs and lasered her thoughts on the tangled mess. The school bus
was coming, and the minutes were ticking, and she gave no thought to the fact
that her father was standing nearby, willing to help upon request. Her little
hands began to shake, and tears began to drop. Finally, in an expression of
total frustration, she dropped her forehead to her knees and sobbed.
That’s a
child-sized portrait of destructive worry. A knot fixation to the point of
anger and exasperation, oblivious to the presence of our Father, who stands
nearby. My friend finally took it upon himself to come to his daughter’s aid.
Why didn’t she
request her father’s help to start with? We could ask ourselves the same question.
What don’t you
have enough of? Let God be enough. Jesus concludes his call to calmness with
this challenge: “Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the
Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything
you need” (Matthew 6:32-33 NLT)
Seek first the
kingdom of wealth, and you’ll worry over every dollar. Seek first the kingdom
of health, and you’ll sweat every bump and blemish. Seek first the kingdom of
popularity, and you’ll relive every conflict. Seek first the kingdom of safety,
and you’ll jump at every crack of a twig. But seek first His kingdom, and you
will find it. And it will be enough. Excerpts
taken from “Fearless” by Max Lucado 2009
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