Quietly Racing, Fiercely Resting

I fell into the classic "woman trap."

Last night, actually.

It was ten o'clock, the lights were out, and the monsoon-like rainstorm had stilled to a dull roar. I had just had a wonderful text-versation with my brother in NYC, I had eaten a bowl of ice cream for dinner (perks of the honey being gone), and my house was spotless (thanks to a recent showing).

All was right in my world.

And I couldn't sleep.

I lay there, eyes peeled open, staring at the ceiling. Would our house sell? Does this guy want to buy? How soon would he want to move in? We could borrow my dad's trailer... we'd need  a storage unit... what clothes did I want to pack, which do I need... packing the kitchen would be a bear... baby isn't going to like this...

Courtney. For crying out loud, go to sleep.

I flipped to the side, cuddled down in my pillow, and... what if Scott doesn't get a job? What if I'm the reason that he doesn't get a job? Name one other profession where they care what your wife is like... I've never been good at pastor-wifey stuff... I don't like mauve and ladies' teas... what if they want me to do the flower arrangements for the women's bathroom? Is that something that pastor's wives do? I guess I could learn to like mauve...

Courtney. Stop it.

I rolled over. Face down. Would I need to find a new job? I will miss my current patients and coworkers so much... but could we afford to buy a house on Scott's salary? Where would we buy it? Where will we be? We want 7 to 9 children... how many houses can accommodate that kind of lunacy?

I turned over the Scott, "I can't sleep."

"Me either. Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying. I'm just thinking about lots of different things."

"Honey... that is the very definition of worry."

He was right. The word "worry" in the Greek actually means (roughly) "to divide."

In reality, there was nothing that I needed to do right now. There was nothing that I needed to plan in order to be a good steward of tomorrow. Instead, I was splitting my mind up into a million tiny pieces. I put a little bit of my mind on selling the house, a little on where we will move, a little in Scott's job... and why stop there? Why don't I start thinking about my baby's development, my job, how much laundry there is, whether or not I paid the credit card bill... And my mind gets divided again, and again, and again...

Yes. I was worrying. Don't pretend you haven't.

My perfect worry time is after everything is done for the day, the lights click off, I climb under my fluffy comforter, cuddle down for sleep, and then... BAM. Suddenly, my life is devolving into total disarray and it all requires that I immediately have plans for every possible scenario.

The problem with worry is two-fold. The first is that it is literally like slapping God in the face. You would never dream of saying, "God, I'm sorry, I'm just better at this than you, so I'm going to take over the details and organization of my life. 'Kay, thanks, bye." But when you worry, that is what you're saying.

The second problem with worry is our finite humanness... Unlike the God of the universe (who, incidentally, you just assumed was incompetent by deciding to worry), you do not have limitless brain power and resources to throw at a million different problems. Your energy and emotional capacity are limited. When you burn up all your reserves worrying about things that may never happen, and/or, things that you cannot control, you are robbing yourself of one of your most precious resources.

You have a finite time on this earth. You only have a short number of days in which to live. And when you spend those days, wrapping your mind into knots, and dividing it into a myriad of small, unimportant boxes, you are distracting yourself from what you need to be doing.

Paul writes: Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.

Worrying is beating the air. Your mind is out of control when you worry. And you only have a little time to run this race...

In Psalm 37 it says, 

Do not fret—it leads only to evil.
For those who are evil will be destroyed,

    but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land.

I will not worry... not only is my God in perfect, sovereign control... but I only have a short time here. And if I worry, I lose my effectiveness in many, much more important matters.

Who cares if we don't have a house, or can't sell our current house? What does it matter in eternity if we have no jobs, or are unable to have a future plan? Worse things have happened to Christians, and if that happens when I am seeking to please the Lord, then I can only assume it is for my good and His glory.

But I do care, regardless if I'm homeless, jobless, and plan-less, about sharing the hope that I have in Christ... Because apart from his gracious goodness, my life would be nothing but beating the air.