Worry. What a dumb thing to do. I fabricate all sorts of futures, based on partial knowledge of today. I predict outcomes, and try to head that way if it’s good, or avoid that way if it’s bad. But there are two big shortcomings of my worry.
First, I have no true picture of tomorrow. I can guess what it’s going to hold, but I sometimes act as if I have far more certainty than I really do. Over the course of my marriage, my husband and I have made several longer term plans.
Buy property outside Bellingham, Washington to build an off-the-grid house. No, build a vacation cabin. No, build house to retire. No, sell it.
Or buy a motor home to hit all the national parks over the next 10 years. No, plan to retire early and travel the country. No, move into the motor home when his aging parents move into our one bedroom home. No, sell it.
Or sell our home and cars and move to a one-bedroom downtown Portland apartment for a sweet job. No, move to a two-bedroom because we want a spare bedroom for visits from our kids. No, have our sick loved one move into the second bedroom. No, move it a three bedroom to have a spare bedroom, and room for our sick loved one.
None of this I regret. But what I’ve discovered is that our long term plans, while fun to dream, are unlikely to happen as we envision. My ability to accurately predict what we’ll be doing 10, 5 or even 1 year from now is pretty non-existent. Which brings me to the second problem with worrying about the future.
I cannot control things outside my control. Of course, that sounds ridiculous. But we had no idea John’s parents were going to need a place to be. Or our loved one. Or other instances when our world changed because of the needs and conditions well outside our world.
As it turns out, I have zero ability to control the universe, and all of the things in it that affect my life and my plans. Given that, why would I fret at all about tomorrow?
This bit from Luke talks about the ravens, who don’t sow or plant, harvest or store. And yet they’re fed. That’s the point. Regardless of my best or worst efforts, I’ll be fed. All shall be well. And there is no point fretting or worrying about next week or next year. It will absolutely end up as it is supposed to. It might not be what I thought, or what I wanted, but it shall be well.
Jesus concludes that we are to strive for God’s kingdom, and the things we need will also be given to us. I’m not sure what it is that God thinks I need, but I do trust that it will be given.
This morning, I’m thinking about all of the wasted energy that goes into worry. I cannot control nor predict what will happen. Why should I work so hard to imagine the worst about it?
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