Anxiously waiting.
I’ve been waiting for resolution in a few different areas of my life for a while. It doesn’t really matter which ones, because in each area I have the same tendency: anxiety. I’m not talking about a clinical diagnosis, just to be clear. I mean regular, run-of-the-mill worry. The kind I often like to refer to as “concern” or “realism” or “being pragmatic.” You might have heard of it. I’m very good at justifying it—it’s a particular skill of mine.
I’ve read Jesus’s words “so do not worry” a lot of times. A lot of times. I can acknowledge the commanding nature of His statement, but I usually brush over it without taking time to actually think about it. Because if I think about it, then I have to admit that my champion-level worry and His words are antithetical. And then I have to do something about it.
Well, here we are. I’ve come to some conclusions about my anxiety in waiting, the lies that lead me to anxiety, and the reality that I can make a different choice. It’s not fun, let me tell you. But I think it is sanctifying.
Timing
What feels slow and unmoving is, in fact, the perfect timing of God. He is accomplishing the work He began in me. He is not late. He also is not early. I can choose anxiety in this moment and rely on my own feelings to reassure me (they can’t). Or I can choose to trust that God is working. He didn’t forget me. I don’t know how long the unknown will last, but I know it won’t last forever. And for as long as it lasts, it is useful.
Trust
Anxiety reveals a lack of trust in God—MY lack of trust in God. If I am anxious about my circumstances, I am making a conscious choice not to trust God. To put it so starkly makes me flinch, but it’s true. In anxiety I choose to trust my own thoughts rather than God’s perfect love for me. Paul offers the alternative: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. (Philippians 4:6)
Preparation
Anxiety chooses worry about possible future outcomes rather than present peace. Jon Acuff says, “don’t fix fictional problems that haven’t happened yet.” Charles Spurgeon says, “our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.” In so many ways, I’ve been preparing for the worst in my waiting. It’s a pattern with me. I worry about possible outcomes, think through them, and ride the emotional roller coaster all the way to the end. But I don’t have to do that. I don’t know the future, and it turns out that not knowing isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Preparation is fine—but what I’m doing isn’t real preparation. Because I am prepared. I have support and grounding and faith and hope. What I’m doing is robbing myself. I’m anticipating imaginary problems and it’s robbing me of my present while eroding my trust in God both for now and for whatever later actually brings. God provides for what is. Today he gives me my daily bread. And tomorrow He will give me tomorrow’s bread, but He won’t give me tomorrow’s today. I get to choose not to try to solve problems that don’t exist. There are enough problems that do exist.
Choice
In between what is—observable facts and events, and what I feel—my interpretations and response, is my story. The one I compile to explain the events and inform the direction of my feelings. In my waiting, I’ve been choosing to make up a narrative that says the worst is going to happen and there is no hope. The only support for my narrative is the way I’ve chosen to interpret the facts. But the facts can be interpreted multiple ways (not just the worst way) and it turns out that my interpretation ignored some key facts anyway (it usually does when I’m anxious). It really comes down to this at every point: I choose whether to believe truth or lies, and I choose trust or anxiety. Choosing truth and trust takes discipline. A lot of discipline. My natural tendency is to anxiously try to extract an outcome through worry. I’m an overachiever in everything, and especially in worrying. But guess what. I have a choice. I’m not bound to continue this spiral I’ve begun. I get to choose to trust in God’s power and love for me instead.
I’ll freak out again, absolutely. I’m not perfect at this, as much as I wish I was. And it’s true that all the things I’m waiting for resolution in could turn out in ways I would dread. But today I’m choosing not to live in dread. Today I choose hope. Because I serve the God of hope.
“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.
“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:25-34 ESV