Choose the tranquili-tree over the anxie-tree.
It’s two thirty in the morning. You can’t sleep. You pound your pillow, adjust the blankets. You roll on this side, then the other. Nothing works. Everyone else sleeps. Your spouse has taken up residence in dreamland. The dog is curled up in a lump at the foot of your bed. Everyone is asleep. Everyone, that is, except you.
In six hours you’ll be walking into a new job, new office, new chapter, new world. You’ll be the rookie on the sales team. You are wondering if you made the right decision. The hours are long. The economy is declining. The competition is increasing.
Besides, you are
• twenty-three years old, right out of college, starting your first job;
• thirty-three years old, with two kids to feed and a family to care for;
• forty-three years old, the latest victim of layoffs and downsizing;
• fifty-three years old, not the ideal age to change careers;
• sixty-three years old. What happened to retirement plans and time with the grandkids? Here you are starting over.
No matter the age, questions fall like hailstones. Will I make enough money? Make any friends? Have a cubicle? Will I be able to learn the software program, the sales pitch, the way to the restroom?
You feel a twitch in the back of your neck. Suddenly a new strand of anxiety worms its way into your mind. Oh no, a tumor. Just like Granddad. He spent a year in chemotherapy. How will I endure chemo and a new job? Will my insurance cover chemo?
The thoughts rage through your mind like a tornado through a Kansas prairie. They suck any vestige of peace into the sky. The green numbers on the clock are the only lights in your room, indeed the only lights in your life. Another hour passes. You cover your head with a pillow and feel like crying.
What a mess.
What does all this anxiety mean? All this fear? Trepidation? Restlessness? Insecurity? What does it mean?
Simply this: you are a human.
It does not mean you are emotionally underdeveloped. It does not mean you are stupid, demon possessed, or a failure. It does not mean your parents failed you or vice versa. And, this is important, it does not mean you are not a Christian.
Christians battle anxiety. Jesus battled anxiety, for heaven’s sake! In the Garden of Gethsemane he prayed three times that he wouldn’t have to drink of the cup (Matt. 26:36–44). His heart pumped with such ferocity that capillaries broke and rivulets of crimson streaked down his face (Luke 22:44). He was anxious.
But he didn’t stay anxious. He entrusted his fears to his heavenly Father and completed his earthly mission with faith. He will help us do likewise. There is a pathway out of the valley of fret. God used the pen of Paul to sketch the map.
Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!
Let your gentleness be known to all men. The Lord is at hand.
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things. (Phil. 4:4–8)
A person would be hard-pressed to find a more practical, powerful, and inspirational passage on the topic of anxiety. The passage has the feel of a “decision tree.” A decision tree is a tool that uses a treelike graph to show decisions and their possible consequences. Paul’s counsel has a similar sequential format.
You already know about the anxie-tree. We’ve spent more than our share of time dangling from its wimpy branches, whipped about by the winds of change and turmoil. On one occasion God sent the prophet Isaiah to soothe the concerns of an anxious king. He and his people were so frightened that “they shook with fear like trees of the forest blown by the wind” (Isa. 7:2 NCV). Sounds as if they were sitting in a grove of anxie-trees. God gave this word to Isaiah: “Tell Ahaz, ‘Be careful. Be calm and don’t worry’” (Isa. 7:4 NCV).
The anxie-tree is not the only tree in the orchard. There is a better option: the tranquili-tree. (Aren’t I clever?) It is sturdy, shady, and has ample room for you. Here is how you use it.
Begin with God.
Celebrate God’s goodness. “Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!” (Phil. 4:4). Turn your attention away from the problem, and for a few minutes celebrate God. It does you no good to obsess yourself with your trouble. The more you stare at it, the bigger it grows. Yet the more you look to God, the quicker the problem is reduced to its proper size. This was the strategy of the psalmist.
I will lift up my eyes to the hills—
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from the LORD,
Who made heaven and earth. (Ps. 121:1–2)
Do you see the intentionality in those words? “I will lift up my eyes.”
Do not meditate on the mess. You gain nothing by setting your eyes on the problem. You gain everything by setting your eyes on the Lord.
This was the lesson Peter learned on the stormy Sea of Galilee. He was a fisherman. He knew what ten-foot waves could do to small boats. Maybe that is why he volunteered to leave the craft when he saw Jesus walking on the water through the storm.
Do not meditate on the mess.
Peter said, “Lord, if it is really you, then command me to come to you on the water.”
Jesus said, “Come.”
And Peter left the boat and walked on the water to Jesus. But when Peter saw the wind and the waves, he became afraid and began to sink. He shouted, “Lord, save me!” (Matt. 14:28–30 NCV)
As long as Peter focused on the face of Christ, he did the impossible. Yet when he shifted his gaze to the force of the storm, he sank like a stone. If you are sinking, it is because you are looking in the wrong direction.
Is God sovereign over your circumstances? Is he mightier than your problem? Does he have answers to your questions? According to the Bible the answer is yes, yes, and yes! “God . . . is the blessed controller of all things, the king over all kings and the master of all masters” (1 Tim. 6:15 PHILLIPS).
If he sustains all and controls all, do you think he has authority over this situation you face?
What about his mercy? Is God’s grace great enough to cover your sin? Again, yes! “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1 NIV).
Rejoice in the Lord. This is step one. Do not hurry past it. Face God before you face your problem. Then you will be ready to . . .
Ask God for help. “Let your requests be made known to God” (Phil. 4:6). Fear triggers either despair or prayer. Choose wisely.
God said, “Call on me in the day of trouble” (Ps. 50:15 NIV).
Jesus said, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you” (Matt. 7:7). There is no uncertainty in that promise. No “might,” “perhaps,” or “possibly will.” Jesus states unflinchingly that when you ask, he listens.
So ask! When anxiety knocks on the door, say, “Jesus, would you mind answering that?” Reduce your request to one statement. Imitate Jesus, who taught us to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matt. 6:11). Engage in specific prayer. And engage in promise-based prayer. Stand on the firm foundation of God’s covenant. “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence” (Heb. 4:16 NIV).
Having done so . . .
Leave your concerns with God. Let him take charge. Let God do what he is so willing to do: “Guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:7).
Have you ever left an appliance at the repair shop? Perhaps your toaster broke or your microwave oven stopped working. You tried to fix it but had no success. So you took it to the specialist. You explained the problem and then . . .
• offered to stay and help him fix it,
• hovered next to his workbench asking questions about the progress,
• threw a sleeping bag on the floor of the workshop so you could watch the repairman at work.
If you did any of these things, you don’t understand the relationship between client and repairman. The arrangement is uncomplicated. Leave it with him to fix it. Our protocol with God is equally simple. Leave your problem with him. “I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day” (2 Tim. 1:12).
God does not need our help, counsel, or assistance. (Please repeat this phrase: I hereby resign as ruler of the universe.) When he is ready for us to reengage, he will let us know.
Until then, replace anxious thoughts with grateful ones. God takes thanksgiving seriously.
Here’s why: gratitude keeps us focused on the present.
The Bible’s most common word for worry is the Greek term merimnate. The origin is merimnaō. This is a compound of a verb and a noun. The verb is divide. The noun is mind. To be anxious, then, is to divide the mind.1 Worry takes a meat cleaver to our thoughts, energy, and focus. Anxiety chops up our attention. It sends our awareness in a dozen directions.
We worry about the past—what we said or did. We worry about the future—tomorrow’s assignments or the next decade’s developments. Anxiety takes our attention from the right now and directs it “back then” or “out there.”
But when you aren’t focused on your problem, you have a sudden availability of brain space. Use it for good.
Meditate on good things. “Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things” (Phil. 4:8). Don’t let anxious, negative thoughts take over your mind. You cannot control the circumstances, but you can always control what you think of them.
Gratitude keeps us focused on the present.
One of the toughest days of my life found me in a diner in Dalton, Georgia. I was nineteen years old and one week into my first summer of college. I was a thousand miles from home. I was sleeping at the Salvation Army shelter where, the night before, an inebriated guy on the bunk above mine rolled over and puked. If homesickness were water, I would have been soaked to the bone.
On the promise of fast cash and new sights, I’d joined up with two friends and signed on to sell books door-to-door. My friends went home during sales school. I was all alone. I went to the field and made this discovery: no one likes a door-to-door salesman. My first day was miserable.
“Hello, I’m Max . . .” Slam.
“Hello, I’m Max . . .” Slam.
“Hello, I’m Max . . .” Slam.
Day two wasn’t any better. I was lower than a snake’s belly. At lunch I dragged myself into a diner, nursed my bruised ego, and ate a hamburger. As I was paying my bill, I spotted a display of magnetized, rubberized truisms adjacent to the cash register. One was yellow, shaped like a lemon, and contained these words: “When life gives you a lemon, make lemonade.”
The slogan was folksy, corny, and homespun. But I had never heard it. And it was just enough to convince me to keep at the job. I bought the magnet and affixed it to a metal strip on the dashboard of my ’73 Plymouth Duster. Whenever I got discouraged, I would rub my thumb over the rubber lemon and remind myself, I can make myself miserable, or I can make myself some lemonade.
People still slammed doors, and I still wondered what in the world I was doing so far from home. But I survived.
It’s been four decades since that day in the diner. Much has changed. But this much hasn’t: life still gives lemons.
Of course, my prospects of a miserable summer are nothing compared to the lemons you’ve been handed. Just recently I spoke with an elderly woman whose husband has been diagnosed with dementia. She needs to take away his car keys. I spoke with a single mom who can’t remember her last good night of sleep. She wonders if she has what it takes to raise kids. I spoke to a middle-aged man who is reeling from the consequences of a divorce. He wonders if he’ll ever have a happy family.
Life still gives lemons. Life gives lemons to good people, bad people, old people, all people. Life comes with lemons.
But we don’t have to suck on them.
I once wrote this resolve:
Life gives lemons to good people, bad people, old people, all people. Life comes with lemons. But we don’t have to suck on them.
Today, I will live today.
Yesterday has passed.
Tomorrow is not yet.
I’m left with today.
So, today, I will live today.
Relive yesterday? No.
I will learn from it.
I will seek mercy for it.
I will take joy in it.
But I won’t live in it.
The sun has set on yesterday.
The sun has yet to rise on tomorrow.
Worry about the future? To what gain?
It deserves a glance, nothing more.
I can’t change tomorrow until tomorrow.
Today, I will live today.
I will face today’s challenges with today’s strength.
I will dance today’s waltz with today’s music.
I will celebrate today’s opportunities with today’s hope.
Today.
May I laugh, listen, learn, and love. And tomorrow, if it comes, may I do so again.
A new day awaits you, my friend. A new season in which you will worry less and trust more. A season with reduced fear and enhanced faith. Can you imagine a life in which you are anxious for nothing? God can. And, with his help, you will experience it.