Worrying about Worry

On Monday, my pastor sent me the readings for Sunday, Nov. 17, 2019: Luke 12:22-34.

Only he didn't send it that way.   He sent me the whole text, not just the book, chapter, and verse. As I read, I realized how much I needed to hear that message. I had spent the day wracked with worry. I wasn't particularly worried about my possessions. My car has a banged up fender, and it's not a new car. I've already resigned myself to the fact that rising sea levels will always make investments in South Florida a tenuous bet.

No, I sat in my office worrying about all the people I loved. It was Veterans Day, and I saw pictures of lots of veterans. I worried about the human tendency to wage war, both on the national scale and the personal scale. My high school friend who died too young of esophageal cancer served in the Army, so I had her on the brain. I was worried about my spouse. I thought about how old my parents are getting to be and how I wish I could see them more often. I thought about the fact that my young nephew isn't young anymore, and there's lots of scary teenage stuff that might threaten him. I thought about all of the bad health choices so many of us are making. I thought about how I am scared of being a little old lady, all alone, with no one to share in the porch full of rocking chairs that I plan to have.

I worried about how worried I was. That made me worry more.

Readings like the one in Luke always make me feel guilt about what I cannot do. How to free myself of worry?

I return to that first line, the one about having no fear. Oh, how I need to hear those words, again and again. I am so very fearful.

The rest of the Gospel reminds me that although I’ve got some treasures on earth, I can’t rely on them. The Gospel reminds me to rely on God, who wants to give me all sorts of good things.

The Gospel reminds me that God is the purse that can’t wear out. Over the past decade, it’s the rare person who hasn’t seen how earthly institutions can fail us again and again. We put our trust in our retirement accounts, only to see them dwindle. We pour our efforts into a house, only to see its worth drain away. We place our bets on the sure job, only to realize that our industries have shifted away right out from under us. We work on our relationships and realize how much work there is still to do.


How can we make the indestructible purse, the unfailing treasure? It’s time to return, again, to the practices that the wise ones have told us are important. We can keep watch for God. Our traditions remind us that God will often appear where we don’t expect to find the Divine. Let us open our eyes so that we can see the true treasure.