I worry. A lot. I’m pretty sure I inherited the gene from my grandmother. I would have preferred inheriting her ability to make Kaldormer or spritz cookies. I’m really good at consuming them, though, so that should count for something.
The other day, I was listening to the Fernando Ortega song, “Let the Words of My Mouth“. A BEAUTIFUL tribute to verses in Psalm 19 and Philippians 4, it settles across my heart like the first morning rain of summer.
Fernando croons the following:
“Whatever is true
Whatever is pure
Whatever is lovely
Whatever is worthy
Think on these things
Think on these things”
The truth is, I DON’T think on those things. I think about unpaid medical bills, termite damage and needing new windows, the economy, social unrest, government, etc. As I was listening to the song, I realized just how arrogant those thoughts are. As if God isn’t big enough to handle everything. As if I am.
This morning, God fed me with these verses:
“Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5: 6-7 (NASB)
God WANTS me to cast my worry-gene anxieties on Him. Why? Because He cares for me. He knows what happens to me when I worry (I get sick, which leads to health problems, which lead to doctors and tests, which means I can’t work, which means unpaid medical bills…you get the picture). And when I worry, I can’t be a vessel for Him. I’m too filled up with me so there’s no room for Him.
My life becomes an inward focus that leads to an anxiety-filled outward reflection rather than an upward focus leading to a love-soaked Christ reflection. I sing the arrogance of worry’s mantra of, “Me, me, me”.
The question that kept rolling around me thoughts was: How can He do a good work in me and through me if I’m trying to do all the work myself? Or, even worse, If I’m so sick with worry that I can’t even work!
I need to trust Him to handle, well, all of it. Because He can. Because He cares. Because God is bigger than ANY worry, especially mine.
I embrace tomorrow with my worry mantra behind me. A new song fills my heart:
As the dawning sun yellows the land,
I will place all my worry in Your mighty hand;
Make me Your vessel, Lord, humble and true,
Decrease me and increase You.
I pray thou would turn the song of me
Into a hymn of praise for Thee.