When Worry Grabs Your Heart, Jesus Asks: “Does Worry Add One Hour to Your Life?”
Worry steals your peace and blurs the presence of God, as Clifton Spangler reminds us. Following this insight, by Rebecca Simon Finding God Every Day shows how trusting in God can turn anxiety into calm. Read on to free yourself from worry and find God’s peace today.
“Is there any of you who would add one hour to his life by worrying?”
— Matthew 6:27
I spent years worrying sick about things that could go wrong. I was so anxious that I would find myself worrying about whether I was too anxious, falling into a never-ending downward spiral of worry after worry after worry. Then the truth came out, sharp and simple: Worrying doesn’t fix anything. It adds an extra burden that you don’t need when life is already difficult.
I used to be frozen, the future appeared as a blank slate that I had to mark, every line a possible mistake. Money may disappear. People may drift away. Everything can fall with one loud crash. I would tie those threads into knots, twist the little hiccups into phantoms that haunted my sleepless nights.
The real problems came though, neither better nor worse for all my concerns. Worrying didn’t help. Making the waiting stiffening, the second burden was piled on top of the first.
I could see clearly. God focused his attention, not with a roar or a fire, but with a calm power that I had missed. I grew up with stories, promises, but they always ended, like moaning that I didn’t catch. Then it settled down. The world is not mine to climb. It wasn’t like that. Something big, something that can’t be moved, hold fast. That reduces anxiety to nothing. Anxiety is not understanding. It’s a burden, more trouble that I chose to handle.
Trusting God is slippery at the edges. Storms may arise, roofs may leak, telephone calls may go unanswered, and nights may be dark and dreary. Life is always confusing. But I learned to stop worrying. It didn’t add an hour to my life. It robbed me of years that I could have spent helping a stranger, counseling a friend, or sharing God’s love with others. I used to think I had to organize everything and chase all the shadows. With God there, that is handled. The pieces stay where they belong, held by hands that don’t tremble. I don’t include tomorrow’s weight because it has increased.
Quitting took time. Stepping outside, the wind brushes my sleeves. The song is loud enough to drown out the noise inside my head. A moment to feel the earth beneath me, solid without being boring. Worrying adds nothing, advises nothing, fixes nothing.
The change came as a shedding of skin that I could grow. Life doesn’t need my shaping. It opens clearly and audibly with or without my touch. God is there, in the spaces and silences, crawling beyond what I know. Debts can pile up and plans can fall apart, but I don’t fight them before they arrive. They came and I faced them, I was light without the fear that was bothering me.
I stopped worrying not as a battle half over, but as a matter resolved. It took a while, a little relief from the weight I might think of as a shield. Sometimes the old pull would shake me, I was tempted to pick it up again. I don’t do that anymore. Instead, I turn to the light passing through the branches, the sound of my breathing, the strong smell of the land I’m not protecting. With God, anxiety is presented as a problem that I don’t have, that disappears when I ignore it.
Life is too short and passes quickly with imagined problems that may not happen. I’m living life now and trusting God to lead me through its rocky, uncertain path. Anxiety is no longer there. It’s an unwanted guest I shut out. The space it leaves shines with what is important—to see God’s love in everything.
