Wrong to Worry?

“It is not only wrong to worry, it is real infidelity because it means we do not believe God can look after the little practical details of our lives; it is never anything else that worries us” (Oswald Chambers, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount).

First of all, I plead guilty. I am a worry wart much of the time. If I don’t catch myself, I can see myself imagining all sorts of worst case scenarios that almost never come to pass. I can work myself up into a good state of anxiety.

But what does my worry accomplish? Does it actually make my problem go away? Does it improve my situation even a little bit? Or does it keep me from making sensible and rational decisions?

Note: it’s one thing to worry and quite another to have anxiety brought on by chemical imbalances. Everyone has anxious thoughts, but what matters is what you do with them, or where you take them.

I heard the analogy that thoughts are like birds. It’s one thing to let them fly over, but another entirely to let them land in your hair and built a nest. The best way is to take them to God. The Bible calls it taking every thought captive. Don’t let it rule in your head and in your heart. Determine to think about things that are good and lovely like it says in Philippians 4:8.

You don’t want to worry. You also don’t want a Pollyanna type theology where you pretend that your anxiety doesn’t exist and manipulate your emotions into a constant state of faux peace. It’s best to be honest, and take that honesty to God like King David did in the Psalms.

“Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life’ (Philippians 4:6-7, The Message).

More Like Jesus

More purity give me;
More strength to over-come;
More freedom from earth-stains;
More longings for home;
More fit for the kingdom;
More used would I be;
More blessed and holy;
More, Saviour, like Thee” (Phillip P. Bliss).

Sometimes, I think the reason that I’m not more like Jesus is that I’m not willing to do whatever it takes to look more like Jesus. Sure, I pray that God would conform me into the image of His Son, but when that process starts, it looks a lot like stuff I don’t like.

When my job position got eliminated, maybe that was God’s answer to my prayer to look more like Jesus. When I was having trouble with my old Jeep and wondering why it kept breaking down and leaking, maybe God was molding me.

If it were up to me, I’d never have to deal with anything stressful or uncomfortable. I’d go from strength to strength, from comfort to comfort. And at the end of the day, I’d look a lot less like Jesus and a lot more like the old me.

Thankfully, God didn’t ask for my permission before He began chiseling away at the sharp edges and the abrasive angles and the rough patches in me. I’m grateful God loves me as I am but won’t let me stay that way.

The old analogy is perfect. It’s like I’m the arrow that God is aiming at the target and He keeps pulling and stretching sometimes beyond what I can endure, but still He goes on pulling and stretching. He waits until I am perfectly centered on the target that only He can see, then He lets loose.

You never really think about archery from the perspective of the arrow. At least I normally don’t. But God does. Every single trial, every single set-back, every single disappointment is God preparing you for a future that only He can see and a destiny that only He knows.

And one day it will all have been worth it. You will look back and see that everything worked out beautifully and had you known what God knew all along, you would have chosen exactly the same all over again.