Scripture – Page 9 – Carrie In Writing

After writing an email encouraging a friend not to worry over a situation, I was thinking over what it means to not worry. My mind immediately goes to the Gospel of Matthew, chapter six: Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat (or drink), or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they? Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span? Why are you anxious about clothes? Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? So do not worry and say, ‘What are we to eat?’ or ‘What are we to drink?’ or ‘What are we to wear?’ All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom (of God) and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil. (vv. 25-34)

Don’t you love that sort of backhanded reassurance at the close of the passage? Every time I read it, I think maybe Jesus didn’t need to add that to his otherwise highly uplifting words. Taken negatively, it is sort of this last ditch effort to convince us we shouldn’t worry about tomorrow. “If the truth that God provides and is faithful and generous doesn’t keep you from worrying, well, then, just focus on the fact that there is enough problems today to keep you well occupied without adding in everthing that might be wrong with tomorrow.” Probably not what Jesus wanted to convey to the listening crowd on the hill that day. So I will take a second look… “Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.” What it causes me to keep in mind is that there are, in fact, plenty of things to worry about. It is not that Jesus is telling us there are no reasons to worry, no problems, dilemmas or hardships. No, I would never dare to say that there is nothing to worry about. Instead, I come to a two-fold, rather uplifting conclusion. Firstly, worry over tomorrow or any future day’s problems is utterly pointless. It is only today that I can do something about, not tomorrow. Secondly, while we can acknowledge the “sufficient” causes for worry in a day’s time, Jesus has given us every reason to choose not to worry. Did He not just say that God knows of everything we need, and that He will provide for us far beyond the ways He provides for the rest of His creation? It may seem like a fine line, but there’s actually a sizeable difference between trying to convince yourself that you have nothing to worry about versus choosing not to worry about any of it. Like so many aspects of the Christian life, living without worry is a matter of choosing truth, choosing hope, choosing faith.

I love this Winston Churchill quotation: “When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened.” A very freeing realization, if taken positively, is that I do not know what tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year will bring. I don’t know. It’s a humbling truth about being human, but awfully wonderful too… assuming I have faith in the great God in heaven who does know all that will and won’t happen. Surrendering worries, be they valid concerns or imagined problems, into God’s hands is the most logical action a person can take. It doesn’t mean ignoring what needs to be done, or neglecting to take care of ourselves or make reasonable preparations for the future. No, surrender is not synonymous with inaction. It is choosing to entrust to God everything that might tempt you to worry; it is living and moving within the guiding, protective care of God’s faithfulness and wisdom; it is being honest with yourself about what you can do, what you can’t do, what God calls you to do, and what God calls you to let Him do.

I feel like blogging but I don’t feel much like thinking. The light above my desk is particularly bothersome today. It seems brighter than usual, glaring off my screen and making me wish I could close my eyes… or at least wear a dorky visor cap.

Over the weekend, I decided to begin reading the catholic letters of the New Testament. I’ve read them all before, but in pieces and for various reasons, never straight through and with a single mindset for all seven of them. The ones I’m referring to are the Letter of St. James, the Letter of St. Jude, the 2 Letters of St. Peter, and the 3 Letters of St. John. They’ve come to be known as the catholic letters, as in, written for the universal church (the word catholic means universal), as a way to distinguish them from St. Paul’s letters and the Letter to the Hebrews which are written to more specific groups or individuals. This term is not intended to separate them as Catholic vs Protestant. St. Paul was Catholic, folks. All Christians were Catholic during the time of the New Testament writings and for centuries upon centuries afterward.

The nature of my faith and life in the Church as apostolic has been on my mind. Every time I recite the Creed, I declare that I believe in an apostolic Church. The heritage of the Church, with its ordained bishops and priests able to trace themselves back to the original Apostles, and its teachings arising from the earliest days of the Christianity and never departing from the teachings of Christ and the Apostles (developing in understanding, yes, but departing, no), this heritage is immensely important and wonderful. There is such security in it; security in truth. So I greatly value the apostolic Church, but do I recognize the need for my own faith, the way I understand it and live it, to be apostolic as well? This question reaches me from two angles. One is that I am to be rooted in the apostolic teachings, never weakening or compromising the fullness of truth for my own convenience, but taking full advantage of the deposit of faith that was entrusted to the Church by Christ and passed down faithfully over generations by the Apostles and their successors. Two, I mustn’t forget that to be an apostle one must be sent out on a mission. The switch between disciple and apostle came when the men were commissioned by Jesus to go into the world and preach the Gospel and build up the Church. They are no longer only followers of Christ but also emissaries of His teachings and life. The Church is apostolic in both of these ways (faith & mission), and the Church is made up of its members. The members must be apostolic in both ways too. I must be apostolic.

So as all this inhabits my thoughts and challenges my heart, I figure a good place to start is with the catholic letters. What did the apostles want to say to the Church in those first decades of Christianity? That same Church is the one of which I am a member, the one that provides me with the Sacraments and the fullness of truth, so I would gain much by listening to those first ministers of the Sacraments and teachers of the truth.

Category: Scripture

Without Worry

Listening to the Apostles