Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel lesson from Luke 12.
“Therefore,
do not be anxious about your life…”
Don’t
get anxious? That’s like telling someone who’s amped and worked up to “just
calm down.” You know how well that goes… Just saying it doesn’t make it so.
After
all, consider all the things that are going on around us. You left the house
this morning with your latest retirement fund statement sitting on the kitchen
table, thinking that it looks less like a 401K and more like a 200.5. The check
engine light lit up Friday, and you need to get that to the shop this week, but
the kids still need a few more things before school, but the budget is already tight
right now. You made the mistake of listening to the news before bed last night,
and the saber rattling in Europe and the Middle East left you restless in your
sleep. Your doctor said she wants to do some more bloodwork because something
just isn’t quite right. And, speaking of school, you kids, that’s a whole
basket of anxiety, isn’t it? Who will you sit by at lunch? Will you make new
friends? Algebra – ‘nuff said. Will you like your teacher and will your teacher
like you? If any of these things raised your blood pressure, you’re not alone. We
are an anxious nation, an anxious people, filled with anxious hearts, minds,
and souls.
A
very simple, layman’s definition of anxiety is how the mind and body reacts to
stressful, dangerous, or unfamiliar situations. Sometimes, it’s helpful. For
example, I always get a little anxious on a Sunday, and it helps me focus.
Other times, like those examples I mentioned a moment ago, anxiety causes a
sense of unease, distress or dread, leaving us with upset stomachs, headaches
and lost sleep. While all of us experience varying levels of anxiety now and
then, millions of Americans suffer from anxiety disorders that cause problems
in their ability to function on a daily basis, ruining employment,
relationships, even the aspect of a healthy life.
There
is much that can modern medicine can do to help someone suffering from anxiety,
and if you are one of the estimated 40 million Americans who struggle with it,
please know three things: one, I along with others in this sanctuary, we empathize
with you because we have been there or even are there ourselves. Please do not
be embarrassed or ashamed; two, as you would treat a broken body by seeing a
medical doctor, do not hesitate to see a mental health professional to get help
for mental and emotional needs; three, if the prospect of getting help scares
you, I will gladly go with you to find help. You are not alone. Do not let that
anxiety about being anxious drive you to do anything that you cannot
undo.
Medicine
and psychology and psychiatry are great tools and gifts God has given to us.
The doctors prescribe medications. Therapists listen and provide coping
strategies. But there is one aspect of anxiety that doctors usually miss. They
can't speak to the soul.
A
therapist asked me how I, as a pastor, view anxiety; do I see anxiety as a lack
of, or absence of faith? No; I see it as faith that is turned either inward or
at least away from Jesus. Theologically speaking, spiritually speaking,
pastorally speaking, anxiety is our offering to the false gods of the world to
try to keep what we have or gain what we don’t. It’s a First Commandment issue that robs us of
the joy of receiving daily bread and other first article gifts. Anxiety takes
faith in Christ alone and focuses it elsewhere. Anxiety lies, saying God isn’t
doing something about it, so someone, something, needs to step in and do it for
Him.
There
is an entire pantheon of other gods lining up, too, to be the objects of our
anxiety. No – they aren’t small statues made of stone or wood. Most don’t have
faces. These are the gods – lowercase g – the idols of health, wealth,
happiness, self-identity, self-worth, physical security, property, career,
education, job. There are more, of course; the list is almost endless. And
there’s the god of ourselves. If we can worry enough, fuss enough, hand-wring
enough, it’ll all work out. Anxiety is faith that is inverted. If faith is the
substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen, if Christian
faith is grounded in Christ, then anxiety flips it all upside down. Anxiety
fools us to think that the unholy trinity of me, myself, and I can save wealth,
get healthy, protect against all possible threats, be popular and smart without
being arrogant or smug, and perfectly balance home, work, school, the kids, the
spouse, and our own mental health and well-being. The anxiety slowly
consumes. I think I can! I
think I can… I think I can? By way
of analogy, anxiety is to the conscience and soul what cancer is to the body:
it keeps gobbling up until it overwhelms and drives us to despair.
So,
when Jesus said, “Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, or
about your body, what you will put on. For life is more than food and the body
more than clothing,” it makes us pause and wonder how on earth we're supposed
to not be anxious when all of these things are going on around us.
It
might seem odd that Jesus points us to the birds and the flowers as examples of
how not to be anxious. After all, birds don’t have mortgages on their homes and
notes on their cars and new schools to attend and cost-analysis reports to run.
Flowers don’t need air conditioners fixed and new clothes for school and blood
pressure reduced. They aren’t worried about the economy or the possibility of
war or Avian flu or root rot. Their lives, their existence is so simple because
they have nothing except what God provides them. Their very existence, from
what and where they eat and drink to where they live, is all under the merciful
and watchful eye of God who cares for them.
That
is Jesus’ very point. It’s an argument from lesser to greater: if it’s
true for this little thing, then it’s even more true for that greater thing. If
God cares for common, ordinary lilies and ravens, then how much more will God
care for you whom He speaks of as His little flock, the sheep for whom Jesus
stands as Good Shepherd.
Little
flock…That’s shepherd talk. That’s Good Shepherd talk. This is Jesus talking -
not a doctor, a therapist, your mother, your best friend, a barber, a
hairdresser, a bartender or any other person you pour your anxiousness out to.
This is Jesus, and He is speaking of His Father’s flock. He is speaking
of you. Sheep are always calm when they are in the presence of their shepherd.
They know his voice, his hands, his calming presence. So, dear little flock,
listen to the voice of the Good Shepherd. When He says “Do not be anxious,”
heed His words. After all, He knows full well what it is to have nothing – not
even a place to lay his head. He knows what it is to face uncertainty, hunger,
the loss of a friend. He knows what it is to face death, both of others and His
own. He knows what it is to be completely alone. He knows what it is to be
mocked, betrayed and hated to death. He knows what it is to be surrounded by
the silence of God, who doesn’t seem to answer His cries of agony while sweat
and blood dripped from His body. Instead of anxiety, Jesus trusts His Father so
deeply, that whether hungry and alone against the devil, or thirsty and alone
suspended on the cross, He is able to commend Himself to the Father’s perfect
will, the Shepherd who will die to rescue and save the sheep from their
anxieties.
I
want you to know, I am preaching to myself today - not just you. I have a
couple of things that really make me anxious and two in particular. No, I won’t
tell you what they are. But, I will say that when it kicks in, boy is it a
doozie. Anxiety turns me into a hand-wringing, chin-rubbing,
do-it-myself-er. One of my favorite BIble verses is 1 Peter 5:7, “Cast all your
anxieties on Him, because He cares for you.” It’s the exact, same word Jesus
uses: do not be anxious; instead, cast the anxieties upon Jesus. He has taken
them from you, placed them on HIs back and took them to the cross. He bled for
them. He died for them. He drug them with Him to the tomb. And He did not bring
them back to life with Him on Easter morning. You have been baptized into His death.
Your anxious, Old Adam and anxious Old Eve also died with Jesus. Leave them in
the tomb. Leave them in the font. If Anxious Adam and Anxious Eve try to bob
their anxious selves to the surface again, repent and drown them again with
Christ. Faith clings to Jesus, and when hands are full of the cross, when they
are full of the Savior’s robes, there is no room for anxiety or the things that
we are anxious about.
And,
remember, if you see your doctor or a therapist for anxiety, please don’t
forget to speak with your pastor - not because he's nosey, an emotional voyeur,
but because he’s the undershepherd to the Good Shepherd. Your pastor walks with
you in the darkness. He hears your confession, of the things that make you
anxious, of the things you try to control, of the things that try to control
you. Your pastor has the privilege and the responsibility of absolving those
sins, so satan can’t use those very things to make you even more anxious. And,
unless you’re a danger to yourself or a loved one, he cannot tell anyone. It
dies with him, too. What your pastor will do is hear and absolve and bless in
the name of the Good Shepherd and with His words of grace, mercy and
compassion.
Whether
you experience that momentary jolt of anxiety or you deal with it as a daily
grind, I want you to notice this: Jesus doesn’t rebuke you. He doesn’t scold
you. He doesn’t guilt or shame you that you are “less-than” because of anxiety.
He simply says, “Do not be anxious. Instead, cast it on me. I’ve already taken
it from you. Trust me. Stop trying to take it back. Stop trying to put me out
of a job as your Savior and do it yourself. Rather than wringing your hands or
rubbing your chin or running your hands through your hair, fold your hands in
repentance and then open them in faith. And in that moment, the Good Shepherd
fills your hands with His grace, mercy, and love without end.
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