Something to consider

Dear friend,'

I've got to say, I'm impressed with the wisdom. I'm not surprised to see it in someone young. Don't get me wrong. I'm just surprised to see it.

Jesus is either an amazing friend, or a real jerk sometimes. What do I mean by that? I think you know, but I'll put it in writing, if other friends come across this. It should be clear. Because what's the worst thing you can do in the presence of a worrier? Speak those three words: Do no worry." There's no need to worry. Worry about something more important. Worry about things you can do something about. You really don't need to worry. Maybe there's a time for those conversations with those we love. The problem, of course, is that time is most always not now. "Consider the Lilies" becomes another bumper sticker we pull out hoping for better times.

Your story is like a lot of others I love. Raised with a Dad that was only mostly present in big moments. Raised with a dad that pretended to show up. Raised with a dad with other priorities. And because, as sociologists and psychologists suggest, our baseline understanding of God is deeply connected to our knowledge of an earthly father, it shouldn't surprise us what's going on in you and your generation. Worry that God won't show up in all the little moments when you need him more than in all the supposedly big ones.

When it comes to worry, Jesus does something decidedly different. He starts by explaining the why. Side note: if you can explain why, it's a lot easier to lead. If you can't articulate it, you're not going to move the mark very far in anyone. So before Jesus initiates a discussion on why we need to intentionally put worry to death, he tells a story about what worry does. Back up and read The Parable of the Rich young fool in Luke 12:13 ff. Worry is a great waste of our time, and our time on this earth is limited. Worry dampens our effectiveness. Worry changes our priorities. Worry affects our relationships. Worry replaces our faith with fear. At its worst, worry is fatal.

And then Jesus says something that might have left the disciples dumbstruck. Which it appears was, and continues to be, a common occurrence. Take a look at the ravens, he says. Get a good gander at the lilies. Frankly, birds and flowers, out of context, Sure, he makes the case for God's provision of each on every occasion. But if you're trapped in a prison built brick by brick with worry and decorated with iron bars of anxiety, knowing differently isn't necessarily going to make you think differently.

Stop for a moment with me. Ask why. What's Jesus after here? Here's what's apparent to me. I don't think that Jesus is telling us that there is a cure for worry. Quite the opposite. I think what he's suggesting is that, faced with worry that might overwhelm us, the best case is to intentionally find somewhere else to look. To build a habit of the heart, as it were. When the feeling begins to come, to shift focus for a moment. It doesn't have to be birds or flowers. Maybe it's an old tree in your front yard. Maybe it's a tattoo on your forearm. Maybe its a stone on your desk. And then start self talk that actually ends in God talk. What has the provision of God done for this stone. What's it's story. How did it come to be here, in front of me? And what about me. What's my story. What stories can I remember about the provision of God in my life and the lives I love? And maybe then, this simple prayer: I can't. You can. Help me to stay close.

The weariness of worry does this: it changes the Subject of our story for an intangible fear. It replaces a God who is with us with a fear we can't fight. "Considering the lilies" isn't an easy pacifier. But it might be your only move.

thus spake,

me