Worrying isn’t a desirable state of mind. People don’t go all over town bragging about what keeps them up at night, what gives them wrinkles and what occupies their minds. Keeping the beast lurking behind closed doors is apparently worthy of our time.
But what do we deem worthy to exchange for our time? The scale ranges from the frivolous to the outrageously important. Egyptian cotton thread counts, frizz reducing shampoos and fat content debates in the supermarket should fall under the “not so important” column. Our lifelong vows, our choice of vocation and our children’s education definitely register under the umbrella of importance.
So herein sits the choice. Who fulfils your need for calm? What gives you rest when worry consumes you? The only answer, not surprisingly but often forgotten, is God. Isaiah 46:4 says, ” Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you” (TNIV).
God could not be more direct. Give it up. He has had your life’s struggles, hopes and worries covered since before you were here. He’s given freedom from worry, as unbelievable as that sounds. Can you just see us, as one individual, as humanity, on God’s back needlessly yelling, “Where are we going?!”, “Why aren’t we there yet?!”, “Why aren’t you on MY back!?”—firing out our questions of who, what and where, all in an attempt to justify why we worry so much.
God has His finger outstretched, pointing, saying, “Look at this! Look what I made for you! Put your hand in Mine, let Me help you feel, smell, taste and see.” He hears our griping, yet refuses to abandon us; instead, He draws our attention to the moments dripping with opportunity to live, love and learn. But we callously trade these moments for the worrying about gaining these very things. What tragedy!
But here is a perfect example of how God loves—relentlessly and without giving up. We worry ourselves sick and still God carries us. He refuses to rob us of a chance for real peace by tossing us from our place on His back. That thought should be comfort enough for even the worst tension-ridden followers. Because, after a quick glance at reality, I don’t believe the world is ever going to shake its constant head scratching over whether chocolate pavlova has more grams of fat per spoonful than schaum torte. What I do know, is that it’s clear who’s carrying me.