Tag Archives: worry

The Sinking Ship

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2006

I’m too busy. Important details are slipping through my fingers. I’m worried over finances (first the washing machine died, then the compressor on the upstairs air conditioning unit quit, and now the car needs a new muffler). I’m worried over my daughters’ needs, over my health, sleep, and eating habits, over other people’s health, over ministry needs.

I haven’t been at peace for a while. When circumstances go awry or when things spin out of control, is my response always a trigger from the past? Or can it be a new situation? It’s a tangled mess right now. Where to begin to lay it on the altar?

Sometimes it’s simply a choice. And today my choice it to hand God my worry.

My ship floats in a sea of God’s love and care, but in my ship dwell all my cares and concerns. When life comes at me one bundle at a time, I can deal with each in turn and move on. But when the bundles continue to compile, my stress elevates, and my ship sinks deeper into the water. There aren’t too many choices: throw some of the bundles overboard, climb to the top and enjoy the view, or sink with the ship. This could be akin to burnout, and I don’t want to go there.

This weekend was the last bundle to pile on top. Was it from God to test me or simply an opportunity to minister to one of God’s children?

My husband’s name is listed in the phone book under clergy, and we get periodic pleas for help from random strangers. One time I was able to pray with a lady for an hour. Usually, I refer them to the church office. This time it was Saturday, church office closed, when I got a call from Gerry, a 62-year-old homeless Christian widow who was stranded near us and afraid to get on the highway with her car leaking fluid. I invited her to spend the night. It broke my heart not to be able to help her more, but I couldn’t take on one more thing. If I’m feeling this much stress, I cannot even begin to fathom what she goes through on a daily basis to survive.

Was I foolish to take her in? Was she merely working the system to get what she wants? I gave her what I could—a bed and meals, laundry, a hot shower, and a phone card. But I wanted to give her more. I wanted to pray with her intensively to heal a few hurts, but I don’t think she was ready for that yet. I listened, I didn’t judge her, I held her, and I prayed for her. What more did You want from me, Lord? She was a bundle I had to gently place overboard and trust her to God’s care.

Gerry told me a Catholic Father, responsible for his flock, went to bed each night praying, “God take care of Your sheep; I’m going to sleep.” That’s profound. God, take care of my friend Gerry. I need to take care of my family now.

When do you come to the place where you say no to someone’s plea for help? I have control over who I schedule to pray with. It’s a steady stream, usually not too much, but right now, it’s too much. With two graduations, a senior show, and a reception to prepare for, I feel swamped. I feel like climbing out of the boat and swimming in God’s love for a while. I need a spiritual bath.

Now I see barnacles of pride and sin and anger cemented to the bottom of my boat. I must chip them off, break the bonds that hold them in place, and let them float away.

Next day. My boat has suddenly sprung a leak. It appears that our house guest stole my credit card. I called to cancel the card and filed a police report. I feel sad for Gerry. I was taken advantage of. I gave her dollars I could ill afford to give her, and she stole from me. I could be angry, bitter, hateful, revengeful. Instead, I feel sorrow for her. Would I do the same were I in her shoes? Perhaps. Lord, take care of my friend Gerry. I believe she’s Your child. She believes You’re punishing her for her divorce.

That night. Shame-faced, I found my credit card in the pocket of my housecoat—right where I put it yesterday. Lord, help me. Were you protecting me from some future fraud through this incident? What’s going on here? What lesson are You trying to teach me? You’ve just restored my faith in human beings. God, forgive me. I falsely accused an innocent person. Lord, please protect her from false arrest.

Why does money drive everything here on earth? A homeless person struggles for daily bread and survival next to the millionaire who lives in luxury. Money can mean survival or demise. Why do we hang onto it so tightly? Or let it go so easily? What happened to the trusting nature of my childhood? Have I seen too much now of how the other half lives? Is it because I don’t feel in control of what I do have? I’m living in a very stable condition now, but life is so uncertain. You can build a business for a lifetime and then lose it in one disaster. What exactly am I afraid of? What are my worries? How do I let go?

A 2025 Update. Shortly after this, we removed Scott’s title “Reverend” from our phone listing, and the calls stopped. Was that a good decision?

I don’t remember how I processed through this visual, but I realize now that the more bundles I carried, the deeper I sank into God’s love, and that’s not a bad thing. I may not have been in control of the bundles of life’s circumstances, but what didn’t belong and what made it worse was the weight of my worry and the unholy barnacles. I also learned through this incident that I cannot rescue everyone. I am not meant to do God’s job.

Lessons from Moses 3

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Scripture

Journal 2006

Moses’ Prayer

After Moses finally agreed to obey God, return to Egypt, and ask Pharaoh to let God’s people go, Pharaoh refused and made things worse for the Israelites. And Moses began to whine to God:

WHY have You dealt evil to this people?

WHY did You ever send me?

YOU haven’t delivered your people at all.

If God commands, and I obey, and things get worse before they get better, this is normal. Perseverance, endurance, and overcoming all require faith—especially when it gets darker.

When I’m in pain or distress, it’s hard to hear the Lord’s voice. Often my first response is to blame God for my predicament. After all, He’s the King of the Universe, capable of stopping it. But when I’m angry or belligerent, God rarely answers the question “Why?” Instead, He defends His character. “You are ignorant, O foolish man. I am the all-knowing. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I pray that in my hour of trial I will be an overcomer and remain faithful and not accuse Him of withholding His love. I feel so weak. It’s easy to trust God when there’s food on the table and my health is good.

Moses’ Anger

I wonder what ticked off Moses. Was he taking on the burdens of the people he was supposed to free? Was he mad that Pharoah wouldn’t heed his warning or obey his bidding? God doesn’t tell Moses His whole plan. He only reveals one plague at a time, and each time Moses probably thinks, “Okay. NOW he’ll let us go.” Did Moses take on the responsibility of making Pharoah budge? And when he wouldn’t, did it make him mad? I can sure identify with that! I’d like to see a few people budge!

So how do I respond when I don’t get my way? Can I trust that God has the situation under control? That He can move in the hearts of men to accomplish His will?

Moses’ Worry

God gave Moses a huge responsibility: lead a million people through a desert with no water, no food, and only armed with a memory full of miracle experiences. Everyone who had a problem came to him for a solution. What a heavy burden! Did God give him daily advice? Or did He only speak at the big crunch times?

Where do I turn when the tough times come? I can work hard to build my resources and slip backward. I can sit back and not work yet move forward. I could lose my health, my home, or my livelihood without warning. Is God on the throne if a tornado wipes us out? If the breadwinner dies?

When it happens to someone else, it’s just a story. When it happens to me . . .

Worry is a large, tangled ball of string with fear at its core. How do I get through that energy field of worry, through the tightly woven string ball to face my fear and replace it with peace?

AI-generated

Trust in God, not Money

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace

Journal 2006

If I were to choose a recurring theme for my greatest struggle in life, it would be over the subject of money. I have been imbalanced for so long that it’s hard for me to get to the center. It’s like being on a wobbly merry-go-round with one side higher than the other, and all I can do is tightly grip the edges.

When I was single and my decisions only affected myself, I felt at peace. I could be as imbalanced as I chose, and it only affected me. But when you add a spouse and children to the mix, it becomes complicated—especially if there’s a difference in philosophy, upbringing, goals, and values. Trust is at the core of the relationship. Will I ever come to grips with this topic?

The bottom line for me, I guess, is learning to trust the God of the universe that He will take care of me and supply all my needs. The wise financial planner saves for the future; the foolish spends it all on pleasure now. The miser hoards it all and has no pleasure. Somewhere there’s a balance, and I want to be at peace no matter what circumstance I find myself in. I can’t hold onto my false security handles anymore. I have to leap into the loving arms of Jesus and trust Him to sustain me and not let me fall. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and I know that He will care for me. But the perspective has to change. Not only does He own them, but I do too. I’m heir to the kingdom.

Later. I fretted and fretted over missing the deadline for our daughter to apply for the Presidential Scholarship at Berry College. But we got an invitation in the mail for the scholarship weekend anyway. My faith factor just bumped up a notch, and I let go of my tight grip when she won the contest.

A 2024 Update. My heart finally began to relax at last when, a few years ago, I found myself worrying about how I’d manage financially if I became a widow. God’s gentle voice whispered in my ear, “I will be a husband to you. I will care for your needs.”

AI generated image

Natural Disasters (and lots of bad news)

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions

From my 2005 Journal.

What does one do with all the stories of horror and sadness in the news? It it’s not war, it’s an Asian tsunami, a Florida hurricane, or tornadoes in Indiana on the heels of earthquakes in Pakistan. Murder, rape, and evil. The needs are overwhelming. And then there are the spiritual needs of a lost world. How do I balance getting information and processing it without emotional overload or feeling blasé? If it’s someone else’s problem, I shrug and say, “That’s interesting, but glad it doesn’t affect me.” But if it’s MY child that dies in the disaster, it’s suddenly too close to home.

I wonder what makes people rush to help. Some feel called and become trained to respond to disasters. Is there something wrong with me that I don’t feel the tug to “do something, anything” or is it merely an absence of triggers? I don’t want to be jerked around by emotionalism or false guilt that weighs on me like a shroud. My resources are limited. It’s impossible to give to every cause—and there are so many good ones!

I’m standing at the edge of a pit watching Stephen being stoned. I cannot prevent his demise. If I try to rush to his aid, I’ll perish as well—the mob is too large for one person to control. What I can do is search for the one or two people who are hesitant, who don’t really want to be there. Who can I persuade to walk away and listen to God? I cannot respond to all the disasters and needs in the world, but I can minister to the few on my path.

On a side note, I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon: when people offer aid for a disaster, those who have not been treated in like kind are sometimes jealous. For example, after 9-11, victims from another terrorist bombing lamented that America didn’t send dollars to generously help THEM. When Hurricane Katrina struck Mississippi, and people in my city reached out to help the displaced citizens, locals who needed the same kind of care and concern felt ignored. What makes us respond to a disaster with an outpouring of generosity, but we don’t reach out to meet the routine needs of our community?

My mother had great compassion for sick people. It made her a good nurse. One day we witnessed a motorcycle accident in front of us. Watching my mother’s concern and compassion mixed itself in my heart with worry—like an emotional bow string triangulated between the boy, my mother, and me.

Am I willing for the music to stop? For the vibration in my soul to cease? Will I become emotionless, calloused, if I give up the strings?

“No, the song will only become sweeter,” says Jesus. And so, I unloose the worry string, tie a balloon on the end, and release it skyward. My focus now shifts to meeting others’ needs instead of mine.

A 2023 Update. I glanced at the news of the recent earthquake in Turkey, said a quick prayer for the victims and rescuers, and moved on to the ministry in front of me, focusing on what I could do, rather than on what I couldn’t.

Photo by Franklin Peu00f1a Gutierrez on Pexels.com

The Worry Worm

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God

From my 2020 Journal. Everyone is jumping on the bandwagon of trying to give us encouraging words and uplifting things to focus on during our forced isolation from COVID-19, and I’ve purposefully tried to stay away from the topic on my blogs. We’ve heard and seen enough for a lifetime on the news and in social media to bring fear and anxiety into our hearts. I am not afraid, so don’t tell me not to be afraid! But then it hit me. I’m may not be afraid, but I did identify some worry. Oops. So here’s my response.

Worm dried

Worry

Is like a worm,

Weaseling its way into my brain,

A virus that goes viral,

With nothing to stop the corruption.

Too late to quarantine,

It’s already done its damage.

All I can do is holler for help and pray and praise

To arrest it in its tracks and

To wash away the filth of the residue

Praise Him, praise Him, all ye little children,

God is love, God is love.

Ahhh, sweet peace.

I Have Everything I Need–Really?

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Peace, Scripture

His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness (II Peter 1:3 NIV).

In this verse Peter is not talking about having all our material needs met—such as food, clothing, and shelter. He’s referring to everything we need in order to live a godly life. So if this verse is true (and I believe it is), why do we struggle so? Why can’t we just lay everything at the feet of Jesus and quit worrying? Why don’t we always make godly choices?

Money

Is there one area you’ve struggled with all of your life? For most of my married years, it was money. I deliberately chose to be a stay-at-home mom to my three girls at a time when many of my peers were starting their careers. If something had happened to Scott, our family’s bread-winner, I would have had no skills with which to support myself and my little family. I kept laying my worry on the altar and it kept jumping off again! But one day as I was trying to process my emotions, I heard the Lord say, “Karen, I am the husband of widows. I will take care of you.” From that moment on, my heart was at rest.

How did that happen? I had known in my head all the platitudes about trusting God and believing His word and His promises. I had knowledge of God’s character. But I didn’t know it in my heart until the day I agreed to feel and face my fear. Once I laid down my self-protection, my self-preservation, and my worry, God was able to speak truth to my heart that brought me to peace. And there’s my life theme again—In the Pursuit of Peace.

How may I help you today to find God’s peace?