Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about your clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you — you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Matthew 6:25-34
There is a comfort and a familiarity with worrying. There is an acceptance to stress, especially at a time like now. There might even be an expectation to think about all the what if’s and have nots because that aligns with the vibe of the world. I have experienced the guilt of enjoying a moment, of receiving a generous gift, of having a genuine beautiful explosive moment during times of collective sorrow & grief. It feels selfish. It feels inappropriate. It feels like I’m living in a bubble, under a rock and oblivious to how the world is going.
Here’s the truth: the world is hurting. The world has been hurting and the world will continue to hurt. And I pray that our heart will always align with that heartache which drives us to hope and to impact. I pray that the grief and sorrow of this world would propel us to make it better and to make ourselves better. So if this is the reality, can we allow ourselves to also find moments when we don’t have to worry and instead look up at the stars and have an explosive faith that reverberates, I will be okay. Things will be okay? Can we give ourselves permission to enjoy the lilies of the field? Can we give ourselves permission to hope SO BIG that it pushes out the anxiety and fears?
So my exhortation is beyond not worrying. I dare you to enjoy. I dare you to have faith that all things will work out for your good. I dare you to know with all your heart, you will be provided for, especially when it feels empty and lacking right now. I dare you to look at the stars and at the flowers and trust that God loves you even more than those. This is scary. This is vulnerable. To not let worry be our guide but instead to spark the faith and hope in each of us is radical and will make this hurting world a bit more joyful.