Introduction

In Sunday School this past Sunday, our teacher’s lesson was titled “Jesus Teaches Us Not to Worry.” It was based on Matthew 6:25-34. The lesson carried special meaning because our teacher had recently been hospitalized with a very serious medical condition and he legitimately had lots to worry about. During his recovery, he felt convicted to teach on worry, and these verses became the foundation of his lesson.

There is something different about hearing a lesson on worry from someone who has had every reason to worry. His words were not theoretical. They came from experience, and that gave them weight.

As he taught, I was reminded of two observations by Mark Twain. One was, “I’ve had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened.” The other was, ‘Worry is like paying interest on a debt you don’t owe.” Twain had a remarkable way of using humor to expose profound truth.

Jesus’ teaching, however, goes even deeper than Twain’s wit.

Faith and Action

Sometimes when people say, “Don’t worry,” what they really seem to mean is, “Don’t do anything. Just sit back and hope everything works out.” I do not believe that was what Jesus intended.

In Matthew 6:26 He tells us:

Look at the birds. They do not plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And are you not far more valuable to him than they are?

The heavenly Father does, indeed, provide seeds and flowers and insects and other food that are available to birds.  But they get up every morning and spend most of their days foraging for food.  It does not fall into their proverbial laps.

Family Wisdom

As I listened, I also thought about my mother. When I worried about something – or sometimes when she found me sitting around doing nothing – she had a line she liked to use. “Chrissie boy,’ she would say (and she was the only one who could call me that), “Don’t just sit there like a bump on a log. Do something! Dig a hole. Cover it up. But do something, even if it is wrong!”

It makes me smile every time I think about it. She was not encouraging bad judgment. She was teaching me that action is usually better than standing still. You learn something by taking the first step. Sitting and worrying seldom teaches us anything except how to worry more.

My father had a similar philosophy, though he said it differently. Whenever I seemed to be wishing things were different, he would say, “Son, wish in one hand and put a baseball in the other (and he actually said it a bit more graphically) – and see which hand you have the most in.” His point was plain enough. Wishing does not change reality. Neither does worrying.

I have come to believe that wishing and worrying are close cousins. Worry is often wishing that reality were different. We wish our health were better, our finances were stronger, our businesses were growing faster, our children made different decisions, or the economy was more predictable. Those wishes are understandable, but they do not move us any closer to a solution. Action does.

The Next Season

As we move into what I often call the “next season” of life, our worries do not necessarily disappear. In some ways, they simply change. Earlier in life we worried about building a career, raising children, paying the mortgage, or growing a business. Later we may worry about retirement, succession planning, our health, a spouse’s health, whether we have saved enough, whether our children or grandchildren will be okay, or what legacy we will leave behind.

Those are legitimate concerns. But worrying about them does not improve them.

Planning might. Having an honest conversation might. Making the phone call you have been putting off might. Scheduling the doctor’s appointment might. Meeting with your financial advisor might. Beginning a succession plan might.

Each of these is an action. Each moves us a little farther down the road than worry ever could.

I have also noticed that worry and procrastination often travel together. We postpone doing something because we are uncertain, uncomfortable, or afraid of making the wrong decision. Then, because we have postponed it, we worry even more. It becomes a merry-go-round that never seems to stop.

The way off that ride is usually the same first step my mother encouraged me to take years ago: do something. Not necessarily everything. Just something.

Conclusion

As I listened in Sunday School, it occurred to me that Jesus was not giving us permission to be passive. He was inviting us to stop carrying burdens that accomplish nothing and instead do the work that lies before us today.

The birds in His illustration do not spend the day sitting on a branch worrying about where the next worm will come from. Our Heavenly Father provides for them, but they still leave the nest every morning. They search. They work. They trust.

There is a lesson in this for all of us. Whether you are twenty-five and beginning your career or seventy-five and thinking about what comes next, worry is never a very good strategy.

We cannot eliminate every concern. Nor should we. Some concerns remind us of our responsibilities. But we can decide whether today’s concern becomes today’s action or tomorrow’s worry.

I have a feeling both my parents would approve of that conclusion. And I suspect my Sunday School teacher would too.

Don’t worry.  Do Something!

And, as always, be well, and age gratefully,

Chris

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