I have a love / not-so-much love relationship with certain verses in the Bible.
I love the ones that remind me God knows my name. That He loves me. That He’s faithful — always.
And then there are the others. The ones that gently (or not-so-gently) tug away my perceived right to whine, grumble, and fret.
Like Matthew 6:34:
…do not worry about tomorrow…
Now part of me wishes Matthew had slipped in a little footnote: “Do not worry about tomorrow … unless things are extra messy right now and you’re one stubbed toe away from falling apart.”
But you and I know that footnote didn’t make the final edit.
Sigh.
So, when I read those “do not worry” words again this morning, I didn’t want to just nod and move on, still worried but now with a side dish of guilt. I wanted to wrestle with it. To figure out the how.
How do we not worry when there’s so much staring us in the face? Real fears. Unknown fears. The kind that keeps us awake at 2:13 a.m.
So I stayed there. I didn’t budge from those words until I worked through it again.
And then the clarity came.
Matthew actually gives us the how in verse 33:
But first and most importantly seek (aim at, strive after) His kingdom and His righteousness [His way of doing and being right—the attitude and character of God], and all these things will be given to you also.” (AMP)
Or as my favorite Pastor from the Pages, Eugene Peterson writes: “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow.” (MSG)
Here’s the deal. All that trying to fix everything? The swirling, the strategizing, the playing out every worst-case scenario like a doomsday movie in our head?
It doesn’t pull us out of worry. It fuels it.
And the more we fixate on the problem, the bigger it grows.
Not every worry is small. Some heartaches are real and heavy. And those? They deserve tender care, not quick fixes.
But sometimes, a little concern shows up, and we start writing a whole script around it. Before long, it’s a full-blown miniseries, complete with drama and cliffhangers. That’s when God gently reminds us: “Let Me hold the script.”
So what if today, instead of getting tangled in the what-ifs, we find a quiet spot. An Adirondack chair on the deck when the sun is going down. Or our cozy chair with Bible on our lap. Or we stretch out in the lounger soaking up Vitamin D. Wherever we choose to settle, let’s simply sit with God.
We ask. We listen. We remind ourselves who He is.
He wants more than to be our 911 on speed dial.
He wants us to know Him. To trust Him. To rest in Him. To seek Him.
And here’s the beautiful promise: When we do, those towering worries shrink back into their proper place. Not because the problems magically disappear, but because we remember Who’s standing in the middle of them with us.
Take heart, friend.
Whatever tomorrow holds, He’s already there.
And He’s got you.
