I’m a worrier. I think I was born worrying – probably anxious about my first breath.  Lately, nothing seems to make me worry more than driving with either of my teenage daughters.  Any of you who’ve lived through the parent side of student driving know what I’m talking about. Can you remember learning to drive yourself? – or imagine learning?  I can still see my mother in the passenger seat when I first got behind the wheel: she had her right leg fully extended onto the floor of the car, foot pressing down in search of the brake pedal she wished she had, her upper body turned toward me and her right arm stretched out with her hand grasping the dashboard as she said, okay, go ahead.  This didn’t make me feel very confident.  So I’m sure my worry gets in the way of my daughter’s learning, but that’s another sermon.

 

A few days ago I was about to drive my younger daughter to her summer job.  As we got to the door, she nonchalantly asks: hey Mom, can I drive?  She has only a learner’s permit, so my mind begins to race with my obligation to give her driving experience, but then my mind trips on the reality of driving with my child!  I want to shout: NO! , but somehow what comes out of my mouth is a surrendering: okay.  So there we go, first thing in the morning, me getting into the passenger seat (you know, the one that’s called the “suicide seat?”)  and my little girl of 16 in the driver seat of our minivan. At the end of the driveway I suggest that before she sends us hurling through space in this 2000lb. metal projectile, she stop and take a deep breath and slow exhale (okay, I admit, I was the one who needed it more than she did.)  Most mornings I don’t have to drive her to work.  Usually I spend my early morning in some kind of spiritual reflection. I often use my first cup of coffee as a time of contemplative prayer, followed by devotional reading and journaling. Instead, on this particular morning, I sat trembling, no actually I think all my muscles were engaged, tensed ready to . . . I’m not sure what I was ready for, but I sure wasn’t relaxed.  So we’re driving, well she’s driving and I’m worrying; actually, she’s driving at a very safe speed but in our big old car on a very narrow, winding country road. So I’m leaning closer and closer toward her in hopes this will keep her from clipping one of the utility poles that seem to be getting closer and closer to me. I may have raised my voice a little, but you know, I was worried! 

 

There you have it, my confession.  I worry!  It’s a struggle for me to heed the words of Jesus: do not worry about your life or about your body. Yup, I try not to worry, but I’m a worrier.  How about you?  Do you have any worries? My specific worry about my daughter’s driving isn’t an idle emotion, but it’s based on fact!!!  Last winter, as she turned much too fast into a driveway, she clipped a snowbank – she thought it was no big deal, it’s just snow.  But this snow had melted and frozen, been rained on, then frozen again: the snowpile was ROCK SOLID!  So there went my new front bumper (which had just been repaired following an accident by my older daughter) – the new front bumper was history, ripped off by the treachery of a seemingly innocent snowpile.  Oh yeah, two days before our summer vacation she drove the car into the garage door frame, leaving us with a garage door unable to close and a car door unable to open.  So while Jesus can tell us to stop worrying, how can we?  Our worries emerge from real things, real situations we find ourselves in and don’t know how to handle. 

 

The real situation in Luke was dangerous.  Jesus’ followers were most likely very poor, and politically oppressed by the occupying forces of Rome.  They were worried about their next meal, and how to stay out of prison or worse, avoid being killed.  For most of us here, these are probably not our worries. Our worry might be how we’ll find the money to pay the rent, the mortgage, the credit card bill; our worry is over whether our job will be outsourced and we’ll be out of work; our worry is over our access to healthcare and its huge cost; our worry is wondering what the results of the medical test will tell; our worry is how to get more and more done in the shrinking amounts of time we have to do it in; our worry is about global warming, Iraq, the safety of our families. 

 

We, like the disciples, are worrying over the real threats to our life and our body.  Yet in the face of this reality, Jesus tells us not to worry and then lays out his supporting case with examples: God feeds the birds and God adorns the fields with flowers more magnificent than Solomon in all his glory. You know King Solomon, the wise king, always dressed to the nines.  Do you remember Solomon’s dream, in 1 Kings 3? In the dream a very young Solomon asks God for wisdom and a discerning heart so he can be a good leader. God grants this request and then some, because Solomon seeks first to do the will of God and care for God’s people.  So Jesus uses the strong story of Solomon to give power to his case.  And again in verse 31 of Luke, Jesus tells us to be like Solomon: seek God first, and all that you need will come to you.

 

When you look carefully at the passage in Luke, it becomes apparent that Jesus wants to convince us that we do NOT need to waste time worrying about our life, striving for the things of this world; the things of this world will come in turn WITHOUT worry.  Look at verse 28 how much more will God clothe you – you of little faith.  I feel like Jesus is talking to me here – the worrier, the preacher, the one who claims faith as her spiritual gift, yet still finds herself worrying about her life. Mine is a small faith, but God will clothe even me. God will clothe even you!

 

But what does this metaphor mean?  How does it happen?  It starts to make sense if you remember the times when you weren’t worried; when your worries didn’t own you.  Often these times take you by surprise. 

 

VACATION  has become one of those times for lots of us.  My family and I spent our vacation earlier this month up in PEI.  It was our first visit and we were captivated.  The natural beauty was breathtaking: from our rented house, we had sweeping views of the ocean in the distance, and nearer to us were the fields of wildflowers – white carpets of daisies; orange, yellow, and purple tapestry of hockweed and vetch; and especially the lupines.  The lupines were everywhere – purples and pinks and white adorned the roadways which offered majestic views of the ocean and of the unusual red rock and red sand along the shores.  While the natural beauty was enough to fill our senses, we were treated to friendliness and welcome from the islanders. It’s a slower pace on the island; someone told me it’s like stepping back in time and I guess what they mean is there isn’t the expected holiday traffic, not the constant demands from retailers, no crowded beaches, lots of free access to the water.  My favorite part of the vacation was my morning with the cows.  Our house was next to a cow pasture and each morning we’d have our coffee and watch them.  Gentle creatures who were much more social than I expected, both with us (though a little shy) and with each other.  Despite our proximity to the cows, the air was fresh and the weather was cool, with a warming sun.  All of us, including our teenagers, were smiling. We had forgotten about the damaged garage door waiting for us at home.  It didn’t occur  to me that I wasn’t worrying until we were driving home – wow, what a week; I hadn’t worried all week! It was this place; the beauty and the magic of this place. This was an unexpected place of grace.  I had stopped worrying about the damage to the car and the garage and a whole host of other things.  These things were there for me when I returned home, but the worries had been transformed into items on a long to-do list.

 

This is what God offers us – moments of grace that transform our worries.  God knows what we need and gives it to us without our even asking.  We need only turn to God with open hearts.  Jesus tells us this in Matthew 11: Come to me, all you [who] are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your [worried] souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

 

This is grace.  We don’t earn it; we don’t work for it; God freely gives to us because God loves each and everyone of us.  We need only to accept it.  When we look to God, we are led to the places of grace, and you don’t necessarily have to drive 12 hours to find it.  Consider the day you’ve had so far; isn’t it amazing to think that here we are again, another day – the sun has come up, the birds are singing, and the flowers and trees and fields are showing off their finest clothing.  The natural beauty around us is a gift for us, a reminder of God’s promise. God will do the same for you!

 

So why do I still worry?  Because my daughter is still learning to drive, she’s still scaring me, I’m still anxious while I nervously sit in the suicide seat.  Are you like me, still worrying even after hearing Jesus assure you?  What are we to do? 

 

I came across a pretty cool spiritual practice from an ancient eastern father of the church: (Athenagoras) he was a man afflicted by many troubles and political threats to his life, yet he offers us this wisdom:  when I enter my bedroom in the evening, he says, I leave my worries at the door and I say, ‘we’ll see tomorrow.’  Perhaps this place, this sanctuary is one of those places of grace: a place where you can leave your worries at the door and say to yourself: we’ll see after worship!

 

Stillness and prayer help me manage my worries, and sometimes I even let them go.  The biblical prophet Isaiah reminds us to be still and rest; you will find your strength in quietness and trust. (Isa.30:15) Paul wrote to the Philippians: Do not worry about anything, but in everything, [pray] with thanksgiving to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  DO NOT WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING!  In this letter, Paul urges them to pray rather than worry.  Not a frantic kind of asking, but first thanking God and being still.  And God answers us with peace.

 

This was all made real to me one recent morning.  During my devotional reading, I came upon these words: When we entrust to Christ the worries that keep us far from him, he enables us to discover this reality: in calm and trust will be your strength. On this particular morning, I had lots of worries because I was scheduled to bring my daughter to work and I knew she’d want to drive and I feared another ride on the worry-nator.  So I decided to take literally the advice of entrusting my worries to Christ: Okay Jesus, here they are, I wrote in my journal; and I listed all my worries from the most serious to the silliest. I set it all down on paper.  And you know what?  I began to feel lighter, less anxious as I amused myself with this exercise.  (I recommend it as a spiritual practice of prayer.)  Soon it was time to leave and my daughter and I walked toward the door.  But this time I had prepared myself, in calm and trust, knowing God would care for both of us. What I didn’t expect was how quickly God would provide me with a place of grace: as I handed the keys to my daughter, she yawned slowly and said: you know Mom, I’m really tired, would you mind driving today? 

 

God is good!

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