Dissing Doubt

My grandmother read the dictionary on a regular basis.  She kept meticulous records of everything in her life in the days before computers. She was truly an amazing woman.  Her admirable attention to detail had a significant drawback, however: worry.  She used to say, "I worry--that's just what I do."  We all knew that was who Grandma was, how she was made, and didn't question the validity of her assessment. 

When difficult situations arose throughout the years and worry gripped my heart, I would find myself thinking, "That's just my personality.  Just who I am."  I wished I didn't have to worry, but I couldn't help myself. 

Now I know better. Worry is not inevitable or "just part of who I am." It is a conscious choice to believe that God is unable to take care of me.

 In Philippians 4, Paul tells us that we should not worry about anything, but should take our needs to God and leave them there, thanking Him for everything He's already done.  Our thanksgiving becomes an altar of sorts, a personal place of remembrance and encouragement that, just as God has won in the past, He's got this victory covered as well.  We should remember, though, that Paul was writing these words from prison, in chains.  He wrote elsewhere of the litany of things he experienced "often": cold, hunger, threats from the government and others, near-death.  Often.  Yet he did not worry.  This was a man who had seen the risen Christ and knew Him.  Knew that, beyond a shadow of a worry, He was able to work all things for his good, and that every spiritual blessing in Christ Jesus was his.  Yes, Paul had self-proclaimed daily pressures and concerns about the churches he had planted, but concern is not worry.  Worry doubts.  Worry is double-minded, being tossed to and fro between the hope of God's care and the fear of God's insufficiency.

I choose to declare by the grace of God that the grace of God is more than sufficient.  That's not just "who I am"--that's who He is.  No worries.