Maybe worry isn't all bad

I’ve been a little worried lately. OK, maybe more than a little. I admit it. Does that diminish my faith? I used to think so, but I don’t anymore.

Maybe worry isn’t all bad, at least for a bit.

But wait. Doesn’t the Bible tell us not to worry? It absolutely does. Scan the Psalms, Proverbs, or the New Testament words of Christ, and you will find tons of examples that say, “do not worry” (or “fret not” in older versions). 

Maybe worrying isn't all bad.

 

But we do worry sometimes, don’t we?

I don’t think our worrying surprises God at all. In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus had a lot to say about worries (see Matthew 6:25-34).  The Lord was fully aware that people would worry about life, food, clothing, and other daily concerns. He knew we would be concerned about our families, our friends, and the future. And He offered assurance.

Here’s an example:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28, NIV)

What worries rob you of your rest?

Maybe you face financial struggles, a troubling medical diagnosis, or a difficult relationship. Perhaps you are a parent, concerned about your kids. You may be disturbed by political, social, legal, or criminal crises.

I’m not talking here about ongoing clinically diagnosable anxiety disorders, panic attacks, or phobias, although I believe God can make a difference for us all. For the purposes of this post, I’m fighting in faith with the kind of periodic worries that tend to plague us during stressful seasons of life.

So I have to admit I have done a fair amount of fretting lately. But I don’t want to stay there indefinitely.

What happens when we camp out in fret-land?

Don’t we become restless? We lose sleep. We carry an extra emotional burden, until we give it over to God. It feels like we are carrying backpacks filled with heavy emotional rocks. That’s what the Apostle Peter was talking about, when he reassured believers about God’s care for us.

“Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.” (1 Peter 5:7, NLT)

Peter didn’t say, “Give all your worries and cares to God, if you ever happen to have any of those.” He assumed we would. But he pointed us to the answer.

Paul offered similar advice, including a hopeful note about how God can bring wholeness and peace to settle us down in our most worried seasons.

“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. MSG)

God invites us to bring our concerns to Him, rather than brooding endlessly over them. And He doesn’t judge us when we come to Him with a big pile of worry rocks. It’s how we demonstrate our faith, declaring our trust in His care.

“Our Lord, we belong to you. We tell you what worries us, and you won’t let us fall.” (Psalm 55:22, CEV)

When we pitch our tents in the valley of worry, our thoughts tend to race ahead, uphill in every direction. We toss and turn in our beds. We grow distracted and anxious. We reload our backpacks with those stinking stones of stress. The King James Bible describes this so well, but includes a sweet description of how our loving God can bring us comfort in this distress.

“In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul.” (Psalm 94:19, KJV)

I love that. Lately, I have had a multitude of thoughts whirling in my head, especially in the wee hours of the night. But I am aiming to take those thoughts captive (see 2 Corinthians 10:5) and give them to God. Often, I find that I have to do that again and again and again. But I believe that process drives us to deeper faith.

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1, NIV)

So maybe worry isn’t all bad. If worry makes us care more and serve more and pray more, then maybe it can be a catalyst for change. Maybe it can lead us closer to the One who stands outside time and knows the future and truly loves us. Perhaps worry can lead us to genuine peace.

That’s no platitude, because it’s a gritty process.

In the meantime, I’m wrestling with worry. I want to become a prayer warrior, even though I know warriors are made in battles, not bliss. And freedom often comes after a fight.

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Dark and difficult emotions don’t negate our faith.

Feelings can be fearsome and formidable things.

I wonder sometimes if we aren’t our own worst accusers, especially when it comes to embarking on guilt trips over our own emotions. Especially the darkest, most difficult ones.

When we feel down, we may wonder if we’re losing our joy in the Lord. When we’re furious, we tend to worry that we are harboring unforgiveness. When we are startled or afraid, we often browbeat ourselves, as if we are not trusting God enough. When we worry, we stress that we may be lacking in faith. When we grieve, we might think we are losing sight of God’s promise of eternity.

Um, no.

Faith is a choice. We decide to believe God, no matter what happens. We trust Him. That doesn’t mean we aren’t going to go through difficult emotions. Does feeling down or angry or sad or worried change the faith choice we have made?

Or are we simply going through pains of earth-bound humanness?

Here are a few examples. (The names are changed to protect confidentiality.)

I have a dear friend who struggles with clinical depression. Cherie is a remarkable woman of faith. I’ve seen her trust God through circumstantial crises that could rock anyone’s world. She also faithfully prays for others, when they walk through difficult times. However, when depression drags her down, she is genuinely burdened. How can anyone question her faith, as she soldiers through such seasons?

Jerry (a family friend) stepped into his driveway last week and found the tires on his truck had been slashed. You can bet he was angry, as he reported the crime to local police. He’s not racing off to avenge the evil personally, but he is still steamed over it. I’m thinking that’s a pretty solid case of this Scripture: “Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath.” (Ephesians 4:26, KJV).

Doris fell off her horse a few months ago and broke her arm. He spooked when a rabbit ran onto the woodsy trail, where she was riding with a friend. Yesterday, she was riding him in the field behind the stables where she keeps him, and he scooted sideways suddenly. She yelped and grabbed the horn of her Western saddle to stay aboard. An hour after dismounting, she was still shaken up. Does that mean her faith is questionable? Of course not!

Karla just lost her job after more than a decade of dedicated responsibility. She showed up in the morning, only to discover the company was closing – effective immediately. Did I mention Karla is a single parent?

“I know God has a better plan,” she confessed. “But right now, I am scared to death.” Does anybody want to throw rocks at her faith? No way.

A friend from church lost her sister to a prolonged illness recently. Polly knows her sister loved the Lord. She is confident that her sister is in Heaven. But her grief is real. Who can deny that?

Sometimes our most difficult emotions feel like they are contrary to the truth on which our faith rests.

This life can be downright hard, and our souls are wired for eternity. So how does the believer reconcile biblical contrasts like “Rejoice always” (2 Thessalonians 5:16, NIV) and “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:4, NIV)?

Doesn’t rejoicing seem diametrically opposed to mourning? Or is it?

The Bible instructs us to guard our hearts (see Proverbs 4:23) and to rein in wayward or destructive thoughts (see 2 Corinthians 10:5). So we are responsible for our hearts and our thoughts. What about our feelings?

Perhaps emotions are another matter.

In the Old Testament, we read that there are appropriate times for all sorts of emotions (see Ecclesiastes 3:4-6).

Jesus even experienced real-life human emotions. We know He wept (see John 11:35). He flipped tables over in the Temple (see Mark 11:15). And I am certain He laughed.

It seems to me that the God who created us with intense feelings, both pleasant and difficult, gave us the freedom to feel them. Maybe it’s more about holding onto truth, even through flat or fiery or flailing feelings. Because we live in the light of His blood-bought, grace-filled redemption, we know that guilt trips are not of His making.

OK, I get that we are not supposed to wallow. But difficult emotions do take some time to process.

I love the Lord. I love that He fills us with His hope and joy and peace. But there are times when I just stop and sigh and love that there is even a book of the Bible titled “Lamentations.” Because sometimes we simply feel like lamenting for a while. And that’s not a bad thing, if it draws us closer to God in the middle of our pain.

Rise during the night and cry out. Pour out your hearts like water to the Lord. (Lamentations 2:19, NLT)

We can feel (all sorts of feelings) without failing in faith or letting go of what we know to be true. And in time, we trust Him to restore us again and again.

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