Worry

“And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” (Matthew 6:27)

When I was in sales, a then-favorite motivational speaker changed my life through a story of his regarding worry: a man sitting at his kitchen table, repeatedly poring through his finances in a panic. Having suffered a dramatic decrease in his income, it had become horrifyingly clear that he simply could not make the upcoming mortgage payment. He had been in this unsettled state for days, and his anxiety was beginning to frustrate and exhaust his family. Finally, his wife picked up the phone in front of him and dialed the mortgage company. After identifying herself, she said coolly, “I just wanted you to know that we aren’t going to get our mortgage payment in on time. We don’t know exactly when we will be able to pay it, but please know that we’ll get it to you as quickly as we can.” As she hung up the receiver, her husband exploded, “What have you done?!” She looked straight at him defiantly, crossed her arms, and replied, “Now, it’s their problem. You can relax a bit.”

Worry is ultimately a symptom of a deeper human struggle: our desire to control everything. We worry when we feel out of control—especially when we don’t completely trust the One who is in control. In reality, there is an incredibly narrow sliver of life that we actually possess absolute authority over, which is precisely why worry can become such a paralyzing dynamic. Prayer is our spiritual phone call to the Throne—it is the exact mechanism by which we officially transfer the legal weight of our problems from our fragile shoulders onto the altar of the Almighty.

Giving up the illusion of control isn't as foreign to us as we think. In fact, we do it willingly in the natural world all the time. Think about the relief we experience when we board a plane or a train. We don’t spend the entire journey pacing the aisles, worrying about the mechanical integrity of the engine or the capability of the person in the cockpit. Instead, we find our seat, look out the window, and enjoy the scenery along the route. We rest because we are thankful that someone else is bearing the stress of getting us to our destination.

It takes daily practice to release our grip, but relinquishing our anxiety is exactly what Jesus invites—and commands—us to do. Throughout the Sermon on the Mount, He makes an airtight case for the Father’s meticulous care, urging us to recognize the utter futility of worry. For the believer, true peace is found in resting in the absolute sovereignty of God, knowing that we actually follow Him through the days we are dreading.

This is not to say that we have no voice in our destiny. We do. Our voice is carried through prayer, the sacred space where we petition God to consider our hopes and address our deepest concerns. But once we pray, we must step back and trust that God alone knows what is best for us—actively yielding to the very prayer Jesus modeled: “Thy will be done.” When we lay our cares upon the altar before God in prayer, only to immediately pick them back up and stress over them more, we subtly demonstrate a lack of trust in His shepherding. We can even cross the line into attempting to manipulate people and situations to force our own desired outcomes. Speaking from personal experience, whenever I have defied what seemed to be a clear answer from God and stubbornly pressed for my own way, the resulting fallout was both long and deeply unpleasant.

Learning to live free from worry is a progressive journey, but it is a critical one for our own welfare and our personal witness. After all, how can we convincingly share the beauty of a sovereign God with a watching world if we refuse to trust Him with our own lives? There is simply no spiritual or practical benefit in doubting Him. Jesus asks us an indisputable, logical question that invites us to surrender our heavy burdens for His glory. “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”

Father, our hearts are easy prey to the grip of worry when we lose sight of You and Your sovereignty. Forgive us for the times we have treated our problems as if they were ours alone to solve, forgetting to trust in You. Remind us that we can lay our anxieties upon Your altar and leave them in Your capable hands. Instill in us the confidence to simply rest like passengers in Your care, so that our peace may be a light to those around us, pointing them to Your trustworthiness and advancing Your Gospel for Your ultimate glory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

mgb