The rule of three in literature tells us that things are more interesting when they come in threes. That's why there are three little pigs, Goldilocks and the three bears, and three blind mice. That's all well and good in the imaginary world of fairy tales, but it also seems to apply to real life in unfortunate ways, at least to me.
In my experience things never break on their own, it's always in a group of three--car/computer/washing machine or microwave/dishwasher/dehumidifier--to mention two examples from our house in the last few years.
This week it's felt like bad news has hit in a group of ten. Things have been going along swimmingly, with only tiny little bumps like a mouse invasion (okay, I'll admit that one was a big enough deal to me that my screams woke the children--but in the grand scheme I realize it's small potatoes) and broken appliances and a schedule that's packed a little too full . . . and then suddenly I've been blindsided with a lot of bad news in one week. Big, life-changing stuff. None of it directly impacts me, but it still weighs on me and gets me down.
Sometimes I have a hard time processing bad news. I want to do something. To fix what's broken. To mend hurting hearts. To make everything all right. The problem is that I can't do that. These things are out of my control, and in this world there's a lot that's broken.
Here's all I have to offer, the plain and simple truth: Jesus can fix anything, and He is in the process of fixing everything. It may not be how we want or when we want, but someday everything that has been broken by sin will be made right. What terrific news! In my better moments I share this news, like the little kid who goes around saying, "don't worry about that broken toy. My dad can fix it!" Sharing that hope makes me more hopeful and sometimes spreads it to others.
So now I share it with you--what I think are the most encouraging words in the whole Bible, and the ones I need to hear today as I go about my day with these heavy burdens on my heart. Maybe they'll encourage you too:
"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.' And he who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new. . . . It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment.'" (Rev. 21:1-6)
I sure hope your week is going better than mine is, but if not, I hope these words help you refocus your heart like they've helped me refocus mine.
Showing posts with label worry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worry. Show all posts
Monday, September 17, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The Worry Cure
I remember as a teenager studying Proverbs 31 and marveling, even then, at the verse that says the godly woman "laughs at the time to come." I've always been a worrier. I came by it honestly, the child and grandchild of worry-ridden dutchmen from the farm. The ability to look into the future with carefree laughter is something I aspire to. And fail at.
So I was particularly struck by this passage in Paul E. Miller's A Praying Life today.
"What does an unused prayer link look like? Anxiety. Instead of connecting with God, our spirits fly around like severed power lines, destroying everything they touch. Anxiety wants to be God but lacks God's wisdom, power, or knowledge. A godlike stance without godlike character and ability is pure tension. Because anxiety is self on its own, it tries to get control. It is unable to relax in the face of chaos. Once one problem is solved, the next in line steps up. The new one looms so large, we forget the last deliverance."
I often feel like that severed power line, lashing out at those closest to me in frustration and anger because I feel like things are out of control. I'm worried about getting it all done, or worried about money, or worried about my children's future, and so I try to control something--most often my children or my circumstances. But it doesn't work. And not only have I made myself and those around me miserable, I've also missed out on the opportunity of that "unused prayer link."
Every now and then I have a lucid moment when I think about the fact that I can't control these things anyway, and I try to pull myself together and stop being anxious. But that doesn't work either. It's kind of like telling yourself not to think about purple elephants--suddenly all you can think about is purple elephants.
Miller ends the chapter with these words:
"When you stop trying to control your life and instead allow your anxieties and problems to bring you to God in prayer, you shift from worry to watching. You watch God weave his patterns in the story of your life. Instead of trying to be out front, designing your life, you realize you are inside God's drama. As you wait, you begin to see him work, and your life begins to sparkle with wonder. You are learning to trust again."
That's what I want--a life that sparkles with wonder. And I think Miller is right that the way in is the way of prayer. Admitting my utter helplessness and turning all my concerns over to the only one who has the power to do anything about them. When I utter those prayers of surrender, suddenly my problems seem manageable and I realize that they are under control. Not under my control, but under God's control. Which is a good thing, because he's much better at managing things than I am!
This day I will not tell myself not to worry about my schedule or about the children or about the things we need or about the decisions we face. But I will pray about them. I will take all my anxious, jumbled thoughts before the throne of grace, and there I will find mercy to help me in my times of need.
So I was particularly struck by this passage in Paul E. Miller's A Praying Life today.
"What does an unused prayer link look like? Anxiety. Instead of connecting with God, our spirits fly around like severed power lines, destroying everything they touch. Anxiety wants to be God but lacks God's wisdom, power, or knowledge. A godlike stance without godlike character and ability is pure tension. Because anxiety is self on its own, it tries to get control. It is unable to relax in the face of chaos. Once one problem is solved, the next in line steps up. The new one looms so large, we forget the last deliverance."
I often feel like that severed power line, lashing out at those closest to me in frustration and anger because I feel like things are out of control. I'm worried about getting it all done, or worried about money, or worried about my children's future, and so I try to control something--most often my children or my circumstances. But it doesn't work. And not only have I made myself and those around me miserable, I've also missed out on the opportunity of that "unused prayer link."
Every now and then I have a lucid moment when I think about the fact that I can't control these things anyway, and I try to pull myself together and stop being anxious. But that doesn't work either. It's kind of like telling yourself not to think about purple elephants--suddenly all you can think about is purple elephants.
Miller ends the chapter with these words:
"When you stop trying to control your life and instead allow your anxieties and problems to bring you to God in prayer, you shift from worry to watching. You watch God weave his patterns in the story of your life. Instead of trying to be out front, designing your life, you realize you are inside God's drama. As you wait, you begin to see him work, and your life begins to sparkle with wonder. You are learning to trust again."
That's what I want--a life that sparkles with wonder. And I think Miller is right that the way in is the way of prayer. Admitting my utter helplessness and turning all my concerns over to the only one who has the power to do anything about them. When I utter those prayers of surrender, suddenly my problems seem manageable and I realize that they are under control. Not under my control, but under God's control. Which is a good thing, because he's much better at managing things than I am!
This day I will not tell myself not to worry about my schedule or about the children or about the things we need or about the decisions we face. But I will pray about them. I will take all my anxious, jumbled thoughts before the throne of grace, and there I will find mercy to help me in my times of need.
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