I think I follow a bit of a God pattern. Here’s what it looks like:
I work myself up into a tizzy. This is usually very melodramatic as no one has died, but rather plans – my plans – have changed.
I freak out in my tizzy. This usually happens at a speed of 0-60 and sends me into stern-worded rants, ugly crying, and the mass consumption of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream along with a dozen cookies.
I realize God is supposed to be some sort of Mastermind, so I decide to put my whole hope in him, to surrender my life and my everything to Him – never mind that this is a good thing to do all of the time. I then wait for Him to say or do something.
As soon as I think He’s moved in a certain direction – maybe He hasn’t even moved – maybe He’s only tilted His head as he begins to open a door – I rush ahead of Him because I saw His head tilt and I know what direction He’s going in. I know what He wants me to do or to be and I’ve got this.
I try to implement my new plan.
Resume spinning wheels and working self up into a tizzy.
Repeat God pattern.
It’s sort of sad. What I just described sounds like a self-destructive addict. Someone who can’t help but return to their harmful source. Their secret stash.
In my case, I think I’m addicted to worry.
I spin my wheels worrying about today, my life, my work, my body, my family and my friends. I make plans for these things that – in my Disneyland idealistic head – should be foolproof. And then I don’t get that new client, I only run 4.5 miles instead of five and my friend cancels our coffee date and suddenly my life is crumbling before my eyes and there’s no future for me.
Where is God? I ask. Does He even care?
It’s sad and ridiculous because this is hardly a crisis. Maybe this is the self-centered enabled attitude they keep pegging my generation with.
I know it’s not useful – the worry – I know in my head that my plans don’t always align with God’s plans. I even know His plans are good, better plans. But instead of following His ideas – really listening for where He’s going and allowing Him to take me there, I kill myself worrying about and working toward my own plans and how I’m going to take myself there by my own devices.
This never works.
I know God’s good in my head, but I have a hard time living that out and embracing it with my heart.
A lot of work places are moving toward the idea that work is affected by family, health, and other outside sources. It’s the idea that to do well and stay balanced in the work place, things need to be balanced at home and in an employee’s mental and physical health. And vice versa.
I think it’s the same with the heart, mind, soul, and strength. My mind can know something is true, but my heart, soul, and strength have to believe it and follow suit for there to be balance.
When I work myself into a worried tizzy, my mind knows God has the answer, but my heart is reluctant to let go of its worry security blanket.
If I’m honest, I’m afraid God won’t come through, and I think my worry tries to cover all the bases in case he doesn’t.
But if I really consider my circumstances, I really have no reason to doubt God coming through for me.
He did follow through with His Son. He promised
to send Him. He did send Him. And He allowed Him to die. So that we could live.
And maybe that’s the key. The mystery of the gospel. Maybe if we can let how profound the gospel is sink into our hearts. Maybe if we can really begin to realize what the extent of being fully forgiven means, and maybe if I can remember how He took care of Jesus, I’ll be able to find peace knowing he’ll take care of me.
Matthew 6:28 says: And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.
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