The Enemies of Gratitude, Part 2: Worry

Philippians4:1-9

A few years back, I heard a radio program on the topic of things children worry about. Children do worry about serious things, real things; but they also spend a lot of time worrying about things that strike us as – well, kind of cute. When I was a child one of the things we worried about the most was quicksand. We thought about quicksand all the time – what it would be like to get stuck in it, how you might be able to pull yourself out of it. We played games that centered around quicksand – if you got caught in it you were out. Back in the 60’s, quicksand was big.

But kids don’t think about quicksand anymore. These days, or at least a few years ago when I heard this program, the greatest worry for kids is zombies. Kids, apparently, spend a lot of time thinking about zombies – like what would happen if you got caught by one, how you would be able to save yourself from a zombie. Kids watch movies, read books, and play games where zombies are at the center of it.

I sometimes wish that quicksand and zombies were all we had to worry about, but of course there is so much more. A few days ago, I wrote about the shooting scare at the homecoming dance last Saturday night. The fact that nothing happened at the dance, that it was a false alarm and there was no gun, couldn’t prevent the rise in anxiety in our community. The mere fact that we thought for a minute something horrendous had happened got the notion stuck in our imaginations, and we couldn’t stop thinking about all the terrible things that could happen in the future.

And, of course, it didn’t help that Monday morning we woke to the news that the worst mass shooting in our nation’s history had occurred in Las Vegas while we were sleeping. All the things that could happen become even more real. So what if nothing happened this time? That’s irrelevant. The point is something could happen, something might happen next time.

This is the culture of fear and worry we live in. It is a serious problem for Christians to deal with. Paul tells his readers in the letter to the Philippians not to worry about anything, which might sound like a flimsy response to a very robust problem. How do you tell someone not to worry when there is so much to worry about?

How can we not worry about the state of the world we live in? How do we not worry about the constantly ratcheting up level of violence? According to the New York Times, we have had 521 mass shootings over a period of 477 days – that is, on average, more than one mass shooting per day in our country.

How can we not worry about the violence that overwhelms us, that runs rampantly through our cities and towns, our schools and workplaces and everywhere people gather together? Who among us is foolish enough not to worry?

To say “don’t worry” in the face of such horror is like saying stick your head in the sand. Close your eyes and stop your ears, and say “LALALALALA, I can’t hear you,” until the bad things go away. To say “don’t worry” is tantamount to encouraging irresponsibility. That’s what we think.

There is, on this topic, a great deal of tension between what we read in the scriptures and the way we experience life in this world. According to the gospel, Jesus teaches his disciples to not worry about food, clothing, or what will happen tomorrow. Paul instructs his readers in Philippi to not worry about anything. And we just find this hard to take seriously.

When you think about it, even though they say “don’t worry,” neither Jesus nor Paul lived their lives as though they, themselves, did not worry. We don’t see them sticking their heads in the sand; we don’t see Jesus and Paul putting their hands over their ears saying “LALALALALA I can’t hear you.” When they are approached by someone in need, someone suffering, we don’t ever find Jesus or Paul saying, “Talk to the hand, ‘cos the face don’t care.”

And so, we are challenged to reconcile this puzzle: neither Jesus nor Paul, in their own lives, ignored the suffering, the violence, and the dangers around them; neither Jesus nor Paul shied away from dangers to their own lives. Jesus waded into every conflict that came his way. Paul did, as well. Paul wrote this letter from a prison cell, knowing his life might very well end soon. How can they say, “don’t worry?”

I think we sometimes think that when they say “don’t worry,” they didn’t really mean it. Because, how could they? How can you care and not worry?

Yet the problem is not really a conflict between these two ideas of worrying and caring. The problem may actually lie in our failure to understand these words about worrying.

The gospel of Jesus Christ does not teach us to ignore the world around us and all that is wrong in it; the gospel does not tell us to shut out the world for the sake of the purity of our hearts and minds. The gospel of Jesus Christ, the gospel that Paul lived and suffered and died for, tells us to approach the pain of this world, to look into the eyes of the suffering. But to do it from the solid, firm foundation of our faith in the strength of God’s promises and love.

In a world of uncertainty, this is where our trust lies.

I have lately been reflecting on the question of what it means to be the church in the world these days. I think it is an important question. How does the church respond to violence? How does the church respond to suffering? Is our response any different from the world’s response? This seems to me a critical question. Is there any real discernable or practical difference between what the church teaches and what the world teaches?

Because if there is no difference, then I don’t know what we are doing and why we are here.

The world says we should be afraid. The world tells us every day that we are surrounded by danger. The world tells us that violence is the language that is most effective. The world tells us that is unfixable.

But, as Christians, our confidence comes not from the world’s ability to fix itself, but from the power of God we know through Jesus Christ. We are at grave risk of losing sight of this important truth. If we reject these words of scripture that say to us, “Do not be afraid; do not worry,” we are allowing the world to set the terms. But when we put our trust in God, we redefine the terms in the light of God’s truth. This is our strength; this is our power.

Last week we talked about nostalgia, looking backward, dwelling on how much better life used to be. It keeps us from appreciating the gifts that are available to us here and now. Nostalgia can make us feel angry about having lost something we imagine as having been wonderful, ungrateful for all we do have. Worry is similar, in that it keeps us from appreciating the present by fixing our attention on some imagined future – all the terrible things that might happen if we are not careful. And worry, too, can lead right into anger about the unfairness of things, anger at the people and things out to get us. It’s an ugly and dangerous rabbit hole we can send ourselves tumbling down, living in fear.

For another perspective that might be helpful, allow me to turn for a moment to the gospel according to Star Wars, wherein the wise Jedi Master Yoda said, “Fear is the path to the dark side.” Fear will lead us into actions that will cause more harm, less good.

But we need not live in fear; we need not worry. If we plant our stake firmly in the good news of Christ, we have this strength that will give us a strong alternative to worry and fear. This is what our faith gives us to work with.

We are not asked to turn away from the unpleasantness of the world. We are not asked to ignore the suffering around us, and we are not asked to take up the false narrative that nothing bad will ever happen to us. We are asked, simply, to let our thoughts and actions be guided by the love of Jesus Christ.

And to stand firmly on the hope that living in the light of God, each day, in all our encounters, will bring God’s realm that much closer. Each act of compassion, each time we refuse to let fear rule our lives, each time we step aside from anger, we bring more light to the world we live in. This, we are sure to find, is something to be truly grateful for.

Photo Credit: By AnemoneProjectors - Peter O'Connor (talk; Flickr) - Quick sand, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=43521955