Are You Driving with the Emergency Brake On?

Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World, Chapter 3: The Diagnosis

Most of us worry too much. If some heavenly computer would tell us how many days we have lost or spoiled because of worry, we would be astounded. When I talk about worry, I’m not referring to healthy concern which leads to positive action. Worry is chronic fear that produces nothing positive. It’s like driving your car with the emergency brake on.

Weaver recounts some interesting statistics about worry on page 34 of Chapter 3:

40% of things we worry about will never happen

30% are about the past—which can’t be changed

12% are about criticism by others, mostly untrue

10% are about health, which gets worse with stress

8% are about real problems that can be solved

We worry about things distant and impersonal—crime, terrorism, the greenhouse effect—and things immediate and very personal—a child’s test, a brother’s check-up, the utility bill. Consider these:

A mother refuses to attend any of her son’s football games because she is worried about his possible injury. Her absence does not protect him one bit. And her worries steal from her some precious memories which she could always share with her son.

A woman worries constantly about her husband’s possible unfaithfulness. Though he has never given her reason to doubt him, he is an attractive man who in his work comes in contact with lots of women. Her constant insecurity and jealousy eventually causes insurmountable problems for the couple.

A woman has been disgustingly healthy for over twenty years but hasn’t enjoyed a day of it. She reads medical journals constantly and imagines herself having every symptom. Finally, her many years of imagined illnesses lead to a real worry-induced one.

The hard-working and frugal uncle of a friend who farmed. In 8 of 10 years he made a good profit, but to hear him tell it, he constantly teetered on the edge of disaster. If the crops were good, he feared low prices. If the weather was bad, he feared crop failure. The poor man enjoyed misery in farming for over forty years.

“The curse,” Weaver calls it, “the ongoing burden.” She goes on to tell us on page 35 that the Old English word for worry meant “to gnaw.” I really like that analogy because it so clearly illustrates what we do when we worry—we gnaw and gnaw and gnaw some more.

Jesus warned all of us specifically against this kind of chronic anxiety when he said, “Therefore, I tell you, stop being perpetually uneasy (i.e., anxious and worried) about your life” (Matthew 6:25 AMP). As Weaver points out, it isn’t a suggestion—it’s a command.

So why do we do it? Because we are imperfect, frail, vain, afraid, and weak. For some of us, worry even provides a type of structure upon which we have come to rely. For some of us worry has become an ingrained habit—and like any habit, it’s not easy to let go of it. As Weaver points out—some of us even delude ourselves into thinking that worry works:

We may be slightly neurotic, but our kids never get hurt. (We don’t allow them to climb on anything higher than the sofa.) Our husband always has clean, freshly ironed undershorts. (In case of an accident, the paramedics will know he has a wife who really cares.) We don’t get out much, but our house sparkles. (We’d like to invite someone over, but what if they said no? What if they said yes?) (36)

Can we eliminate our tendency to worry? No—because worry is a temptation—and we will never outgrow temptation. It is a normal part of being human. We shouldn’t be surprised or shocked or discouraged by it. The Bible says, “When you are tempted. . .” not if. Being tempted to worry (or whatever) is inevitable.

But remember, it is not a sin to be tempted. Temptation only becomes a sin when you give in to it. Martin Luther said, “You cannot keep birds from flying over your head, but you can keep them from building a nest in your hair.” You can’t keep the Devil from suggesting thoughts that lead to worry, but you can choose not to dwell or act on them.

And why is the Devil so intent on tempting us to worry and Jesus just as intent in warning us to beware it. Well, actually, the reason is the same-worry short-circuits our relationship with God and fixes our eyes on our situation—our circumstances—rather than on our Savior. The Devil’s coming after you, count on it. Peter knew it, and he warned us, “Stay alert. The Devil is poised to pounce, and would like nothing better than to catch you napping” (John 8:44).

Weaver is quick to point out that there is a difference between “worry” and “concern.” “Real problems do occur, usually on a daily basis.” Weaver says. “[T]there are certainly things that require concern and action on our part.” So what is the difference between healthy concern and toxic worry? Weaver’s right on, I think, when she says “Concern draws us to God. Worry pulls us from him” (38). Look at the chart on page 38. Take one of the things you listed on your page and test it against Weaver’s chart.

Weaver tells us what’s key on page 39: “There’s something we all need to remember when it comes to this issue of worry. We face legitimate concerns every day of our lives. But instead of fretting, instead of worrying, we need to focus on discerning what WE can do—with God’s help—and what should be left entirely up to God. . .we need to keep our focus on who God is and what God can do. The bills won’t pay themselves. But we serve Jehovan Jireh—the God who provides. The mole on our arm may indeed need to be checked and may even turn out to be cancerous. But we serve Jehovan-Rapha—the God who heals. There is plenty in this world to be concerned about. Be we serve El-Shaddai—an almighty God. Jesus warned us, “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33). Catch that! He said, “you WILL,” not “you MIGHT.” Troubles comes with this earthly territory. “But take heart!” Jesus said. That’s the reason we can leave our worry behind –not because there’s nothing to be concerned about, but because we have Someone who can handle our worries, our problems, our lives a lot better that we can.”

So what do we do? How do we fight worry? I think Weaver’s advice on page 40 is wonderful. I tried it. It works. Here’s what I do.

* Reread or recite Philippians 4:6-7.

* Magnify God not the problem.

* Change the approach.

* Pray.

So if God is waiting to help us defeat temptation, why don’t we turn to him more often? Honestly, sometimes we don’t WANT to be helped. We WANT to worry. Why? Because it makes us feel more in control. Because we don’t know what else to do. Because worrying is easier than trusting.

But, as Henry Ward Beecher pointed out, “It is not well for man to pray cream, and live skim milk.”

The first step in combating worry is examining it. On page 44, Weaver talks about taking every thought captive” and “staying our imaginations.”

“But as I began to ‘take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ’

(II Corinthians 10:5), anxiety began to lose its hold. Instead of being led

astray by fear, I took a second look at each thought as it came. Many were

incognito, disguised to look like ordinary emotions. But instead of enter-

taining them, I handcuffed the intruding thoughts that triggered fear and

took them to Jesus. Together we interrogated them asking two questions:

* Where did you come from? (What is the source of this fear? Is it real or

imagined?)

* Where are you going? (Will this thought draw me to God or into fear?)

For so long, I had let thought come and go without realizing that if Satan

controls my thought life, he controls me. Before that time, I’d carelessly

let my emotions lead me down the treacherous paths of self-reliance rather

than trusting in God.

Authors Bill and Kathy Peel observe, “It’s an interesting thing, the human mind. It can only focus on a couple of things at a time.” So after I pray, I deliberately divert my mind by doing something else.

Resisting a thought doesn’t work. It only intensifies our focus on the wrong thing and strengthens its allure. Every time I try to block a thought out of my mind, I just seem to reinforce it. I can’t defeat temptation by simply fighting the feeling of it. The more I fight the feeling, the more it consumes and controls me.

Since worry always begins with a thought, the quickest way for me to neutralize its allure is to turn my attention to something else. I have learned not to fight the thought, just rechannel my mind and get interested in another idea.

If I find myself watching something on television that tempts me to take my worry back—or I read something—or the Eeyores of the world make a run at me—I stop watching, reading, or listening. I take myself out of the situation—as my friend Jo’s Uncle Nub says, “If you don’t want to get stung, stay away from the bees.”

I quit trying to argue with the Devil. He’s better at arguing that I am, having had thousands of years of practice. I can’t bluff him with logic or my opinion or even my will, but I can rebuke him by drawing on Scripture. For me, memorizing Scripture (however badly) has been absolutely essential in my battle against worry. It’s my weapon in this battle. Weaver cites one of my favorites on page 45: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” from II Timothy.

Weaver encourages us to meditate on God’s Word day and night as King David did. She tells us that the word meditate has been likened to a cow chewing on its cud. I’m trying to take her next bit of advice to heart—stop gnawing on the bone of worry and chew on the cud of the promises of God. I’m trying to stop “sewing fig leaves” to “cover up my inadequacy” before God and just be at peace in the security of His love and protection.

“When Jesus said, ‘Martha, Martha. . .’ so gently that frantic day in Bethany, He was speaking to you and me as well,” Weavers says. “Come find love, Jesus invites us. . .’Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me’ (John 14:1).” Lay aside your worries, give up fiddling with things you can never hope to fix, and seek His face instead.