Lent Midweek 4 [2/28/08] “Be Not Anxious”

“In all our anxieties, Jesus calls unto us: ‘be not anxious!’ No other word so precisely describes our actual condition. We can never find a place upon earth where we are not beset with anxious care and where Jesus is not able to reach us with this admonition. Jesus could not utter a word that so concerns all of us, that so commands our attention, as the word ‘anxiety.’” Those words were written by Karl Barth, perhaps that greatest theologian of the 20^th century, some 90 years ago. That takes me aback a little, because I think of “anxiety” as a peculiarly modern concept. And yet Barth’s words suggest that in my grandparents’ time, anxiety was a fact of life. It must go back even further—obviously it was a fact of life for Jesus’ disciples. As we read this passage, we realize that even the things that his disciples were anxious about—food, clothing, the necessities of life—haven’t changed all that much in two thousand years.

The difficulty of his words hasn’t changed much, either. They are beautiful poetry, to be sure—all this talk about the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. But do they connect with real life? Is it really possible, in 21^st century America, to walk around carefree and without anxiety? Is Jesus really saying that things like food and clothing and shelter don’t matter? And things like mortgage payments and college tuition costs and pension plans?

Well, I don’t think that’s what he’s saying. Let’s explore an alternative way of listening to Jesus’ words, a way that will tie them to real life as we experience it. Let’s start with an affirmation that these things do matter, and that Jesus knows it. They matter, and that’s why he talks about them. When we sit here in church, often we are anxious about things. There’s no denying it, because it’s true, and Jesus knows it. These mundane things do matter to us.

For me, one of the points of comfort here comes right at the end: “Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.” You see, Jesus knows that we have troubles, plenty of troubles this day. He doesn’t say, “Don’t worry, be happy!”—as if we could somehow just blot the troubles of life out of our consciousness. He knows we can’t do that.

What is possible, however, is to learn how to deal with our anxieties and troubles in a more helpful way. We can see them in a different light, and stop letting them get the best of us. Somewhere, and in a different context, Luther makes the remark that we can’t stop the birds from flying overhead, but we can surely stop them from building a nest in our hair! It’s that way with cares and anxieties. We can’t keep them from our mind entirely, but we can, with God’s help, keep them from overpowering us.

Now let’s think about what Jesus teaches us about our anxieties and worries in this passage. “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” I think by that he means that we must see life as an incredible gift of God. If God gave us life, can we not also trust him to give us what we need to sustain life? Now what we need and what we want are sometimes two different things. But the point is that the God who created us will not abandon us. We do not need to be afraid of being left destitute.

What, according to the Catechism, does the first article of the creed mean? That “God has created me, and all that exists. He has given me and still preserves my body and soul with all their powers. He provides me with food and clothing, home and family, daily work and all I need from day to day. God also protects me in time of danger and guards me from every evil. All this he does out of fatherly and divine goodness and mercy, though I do not deserve it.” You see, because we belong to God, he will care for us.

And given this conviction, it follows that being anxious is a kind of distrust of God. That’s why Jesus’ words about anxiety are so important. Worrying that God will not provide what we need means that we do not trust him, do not take him at his word. Now again, this does not mean that we must not think about the things we need from day to day; but we are told not to be anxious about them. There is a difference! There is nothing wrong with planning, working, doing what we need to do, exercising good stewardship. But anxiety means worrying that God will not come through. And that is what Jesus warns against.

Jesus also makes the point here that anxiety is really useless. “Which of you, by being anxious, can add a single hour to his span of life?” Worry doesn’t accomplish anything. There’s plenty we can do in life that can get results, but worry isn’t one of them—unless the results you want are insomnia, ulcers, or depression!

Well, you say, that’s all very good, but let’s get practical. How can we avoid anxiety? I wish I were the expert who could tell you the answers! I don’t know all the answers. But let me offer some signposts, some suggestions, based on a sermon by Helmut Thielicke, who, you may have guessed by now, is in my way of thinking one of the most profound commentators on the Sermon on the Mount.

Thielicke suggests, first of all, that we must be careful not to turn away from our cares artificially. That is so easy to do, and sometimes it even feels helpful. Instead of worrying, we will watch television or lose ourselves in our work or maybe take another drink. We will try to do whatever it takes to stop thinking about the cares we have. But that kind of diversion does not ultimately help. Instead of diverting our cares, Thielicke says, we need to direct them to the one who has offered to bear them for us—to Christ. Thielicke puts it this way: “Jesus did not say: Look at the ostrich, how it buries its head in the desert and so tries to escape the fear of danger. No, he said: Look at the birds of the air, keep your eyes open, stand up straight and look to the heights were God makes known his grace and care.”

Then Thielicke’s second suggestion is related to the first. We should not, he says, try to repress our cares, but let them out—express them to our heavenly Father. When we speak them, we begin to release them. The other night visiting Lois’s mom in the Alzheimer’s unit, there was a resident who was quite concerned that she needed to go home and feed her dog. The caretakers were very consistent—and very wise—in how they responded. They did not say, “Oh, you don’t have a dog anymore.” Rather they said, “You don’t need to worry because your son has already fed the dog.” They didn’t deny the reality of the concern (even though, objectively speaking, it was a useless concern); but they simply reassured her.

Do you expect a less loving response from your Father in heaven, if you express the fears of your own heart? No, even if we feel, in the brilliance of our intellect, that our fears are foolish, we can still pour them out to God with confidence, knowing that God will not laugh or ridicule us. Rather he will do what must be done to reassure us and given us confidence.

Then, Thielicke says, we must not hold on to our anxieties. They will come, but if we try to hold on to them, they are poisonous. Rather, he says, transform your cares into your prayers. That is perhaps too cute a way to put it, but there is a powerful theological and Biblical point behind it. When we bring our cares to Jesus, we come closer to his heart than at any other time. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,” says the Psalmist. Our anxieties have one good result if they can help us see, at the deepest level, our need of God. And when we take them to him, when we say to him, “God, I’m worried; I don’t know what to do”—then precisely at that point, our Lord draws us ever closer to himself and says, “Be not anxious! I am with you.”

And perhaps in thinking about it in that way, we can catch a new glimpse of what his words themselves mean. They are not a commandment, like “Do not kill” or “Do not steal.” Rather they are words of reassurance. They are words that are spoken to us again, and again, and again—whenever we are worried or afraid. They are—dare we say it?—words we long to hear, for they are words addressed to us where we are, words that acknowledge our fears and worries and yet remind us that Christ will take those from us, take those burdens upon himself.

“Be not anxious!” My dear friends, those are the words Jesus speaks to you tonight, to the very fears and worries and anxieties that plague your own heart. He invites you to place those anxieties at his feet, just for now. Don’t worry about tomorrow, just for now. But let him take your anxieties and leave you in peace this night. And may the God of peace be with you!