Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6, 7, NKJV).
Nothing and Everything
I naturally tend to do the exact opposite of this verse: anxious for everything and thankful for nothing. Part of the problem is that when I rehearse the things for which I am truly thankful, anxiety rears its ugly head over all the people and things I could lose. I am pretty sure Satan is smarter than me, and this is a brilliant tactic on his part to keep me focused on me and the world, and not God. Then my loving heavenly Father has to smack me upside the head with my own weakness and inadequacies so that I realize once again for the billionth time that any thought of control I have over my life, good or bad, is an hallucination.
Why oh why am I so thick-headed? What has my Lord ever done to make me doubt His faithfulness and love toward me? Yes, I have lost loved ones and have suffered pain and heartache, but that is life in a fallen world and without Him sustaining me by His love and grace I would have suffered far worse. Why is it that I cannot let go of the illusion that I must always do something in my own strength? He has shown me over and over again that He will give me strength and motivation when I need it. He has always been far more kind to me than I would have ever imagined. What is it about His demonstrations of love and care that I find so difficult to trust?
I could easily hide behind the excuse that I know I deserve none of His kindness so that it would be the height of arrogance for me to expect anything. But that is a noble sounding lie. What I long for in life has nothing to do with what I deserve or I expect. The longing part of me could really care less about the deserving of it. I still want and long; justice has very little to do with any of it. And here I believe is where I approach the crux of the problem, because I know and understand that the anxiety increases in proportion to the anticipated disappointment of the "not getting". I really don't want what the Lord wants for me. If I did, I could relax knowing that whatever comes is from Him, even the stuff that happens because of my own stupid action or inaction. And it will all work together for good.
The bottom line, I believe, is that I war for control over my life. I am afraid that if I submit completely to His authority, I won't be happy with the result. I don't think I'm arrogant enough to think He doesn't know what's good for me, but I do think I don't trust Him enough to leave the outcome completely in His hands. This IS incredibly arrogant; like a child thinking he or she knows better than the loving, wise parent. But it's also worse than that. The child, after all, has some justification in thinking that the parent in view isn't infallible, or perfectly loving, or powerful enough to ensure the intended outcome. It kind of makes sense in that context for even the most loving and obedient child to have twinges of doubt and fear in regard to the human parent. But if I really believed the things that I say I believe about my God and Father, I would not be anxious once I brought the situation to His attention in my heart.
Of course, He already knows all about what I am facing, but there is a transaction that seems to take place when I consciously lay those things at His feet. I give Him my cares, trusting completely that He cares for me, and in exchange, He gives me His peace that surpasses all understanding. Go back to the picture of a fearful child again. At a certain very young age, children in a loving household believe their parents are magic and powerful and can fix everything. There is an innocent trust involved that is precious and necessary in order for the young and vulnerable child to grow and mature without collapsing under the weight of reality. A loving look, a comforting hug, or kind and understanding words can obliterate mountains of the little one's fear and panic. As they get older, this effect and trust is undermined by actual experience, as they see their human and fallible parents fall far short of the standard of perfection the child thought was theirs. In a very tragic way, the growing realization that Mom and Dad are mere sinful human beings is heart-breaking.
But as a child of God, I have no such justification. If I loved Him even in small part the way He loves me, I would NEVER be afraid for more than the time it takes me to remember Who it is who has my very breath in His hands. Who knit me together in my mother's womb. Who knows the number of my days and the hairs on my head. Who has inscribed my name on the palm of His hand.
My anxiety then is not just a lack of faith. It is a lack of love. My love for Him.
"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love." (1 John 4:18, NKJV).
Nothing and Everything
I naturally tend to do the exact opposite of this verse: anxious for everything and thankful for nothing. Part of the problem is that when I rehearse the things for which I am truly thankful, anxiety rears its ugly head over all the people and things I could lose. I am pretty sure Satan is smarter than me, and this is a brilliant tactic on his part to keep me focused on me and the world, and not God. Then my loving heavenly Father has to smack me upside the head with my own weakness and inadequacies so that I realize once again for the billionth time that any thought of control I have over my life, good or bad, is an hallucination.
Why oh why am I so thick-headed? What has my Lord ever done to make me doubt His faithfulness and love toward me? Yes, I have lost loved ones and have suffered pain and heartache, but that is life in a fallen world and without Him sustaining me by His love and grace I would have suffered far worse. Why is it that I cannot let go of the illusion that I must always do something in my own strength? He has shown me over and over again that He will give me strength and motivation when I need it. He has always been far more kind to me than I would have ever imagined. What is it about His demonstrations of love and care that I find so difficult to trust?
I could easily hide behind the excuse that I know I deserve none of His kindness so that it would be the height of arrogance for me to expect anything. But that is a noble sounding lie. What I long for in life has nothing to do with what I deserve or I expect. The longing part of me could really care less about the deserving of it. I still want and long; justice has very little to do with any of it. And here I believe is where I approach the crux of the problem, because I know and understand that the anxiety increases in proportion to the anticipated disappointment of the "not getting". I really don't want what the Lord wants for me. If I did, I could relax knowing that whatever comes is from Him, even the stuff that happens because of my own stupid action or inaction. And it will all work together for good.
The bottom line, I believe, is that I war for control over my life. I am afraid that if I submit completely to His authority, I won't be happy with the result. I don't think I'm arrogant enough to think He doesn't know what's good for me, but I do think I don't trust Him enough to leave the outcome completely in His hands. This IS incredibly arrogant; like a child thinking he or she knows better than the loving, wise parent. But it's also worse than that. The child, after all, has some justification in thinking that the parent in view isn't infallible, or perfectly loving, or powerful enough to ensure the intended outcome. It kind of makes sense in that context for even the most loving and obedient child to have twinges of doubt and fear in regard to the human parent. But if I really believed the things that I say I believe about my God and Father, I would not be anxious once I brought the situation to His attention in my heart.
Of course, He already knows all about what I am facing, but there is a transaction that seems to take place when I consciously lay those things at His feet. I give Him my cares, trusting completely that He cares for me, and in exchange, He gives me His peace that surpasses all understanding. Go back to the picture of a fearful child again. At a certain very young age, children in a loving household believe their parents are magic and powerful and can fix everything. There is an innocent trust involved that is precious and necessary in order for the young and vulnerable child to grow and mature without collapsing under the weight of reality. A loving look, a comforting hug, or kind and understanding words can obliterate mountains of the little one's fear and panic. As they get older, this effect and trust is undermined by actual experience, as they see their human and fallible parents fall far short of the standard of perfection the child thought was theirs. In a very tragic way, the growing realization that Mom and Dad are mere sinful human beings is heart-breaking.
But as a child of God, I have no such justification. If I loved Him even in small part the way He loves me, I would NEVER be afraid for more than the time it takes me to remember Who it is who has my very breath in His hands. Who knit me together in my mother's womb. Who knows the number of my days and the hairs on my head. Who has inscribed my name on the palm of His hand.
My anxiety then is not just a lack of faith. It is a lack of love. My love for Him.
"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love." (1 John 4:18, NKJV).
