October 28, 2024
Have you ever felt like the burdens, cares, and disappointments of life are heavier than you can bear? Has the loss of a loved one filled you with sorrow? Are problems with your husband, wife, or a member of your family disrupting your relationship? Has an accident or serious illness left you feeling frightened or depressed? Have friends or colleagues failed or betrayed you just when you needed them the most? Have financial difficulties and economic pressures filled you with uncertainty and despair? Have worries over children or family members alarmed you and caused you sleepless nights? If you are going through a time of difficulty, hardship, or personal crisis of any kind, following is a story that can provide strength and encouragement for troubling times.
There once was a picture that won a contest where the artists were supposed to illustrate peace. Most of the artists handed in quiet, calm, country scenes—absolute, total quiet. While that’s a form of peace, the hardest kind of peace to attain to is the picture that won the award. It was a picture of roaring, raging rapids, a river in all its foaming and fury. But on a slim branch overhanging the raging current was a beautiful little nest with a tiny bird sitting there, peacefully singing away in spite of the storm. That’s when your faith gets tested, in the midst of the storm.
J. R. Miller once spoke about the futility of worry in a sermon:
It is useless to worry. A shorter person cannot, by any amount of anxiety, make himself an inch taller. Why, therefore, should he waste his energy and fret his life away in wishing he were an inch taller? One worries because he is too short, another because he is too tall; one because he is bald, another because he has a mole on his face. No amount of fretting will change any of these things. People worry, too, over their circumstances. They are poor and have to work hard. They have trouble, losses, and disappointments which come through causes entirely beyond their own control. They find difficulties in their environment which they cannot surmount. There are hard conditions in their lot which they cannot change.
Now, why should they worry about these things? Will worrying make matters any better? Will discontent put hair on the head, remove the mole, or reduce weight, or put flesh on the thin body? Will chafing make the hard work lighter, or the burdens easier, or the troubles fewer? Will anxiety keep the cold weather away, or the storm from rising, or put rice on our plates, or get clothes for the children? Even wise philosophy shows the uselessness of worrying, since it helps nothing, and only wastes one’s strength and unfits one for doing one’s best.
The Christian gospel goes farther, and says that even the hard things and the obstacles are blessings—if we meet them in the right spirit. They are stepping-stones lifting our feet upward—disciplinary experiences in which we grow. So we learn that we should quietly, and with faith, accept life as it comes to us—fretting at nothing, and changing hard conditions to easier if we can. And if we cannot, then we must use them as means for growth and advancement.—J. R. Miller
Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? … Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.—Matthew 6:25–34
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds.—Philippians 4:7
Worry is like a rocking chair; it gives you something to do, but it never gets you anywhere.—Attributed to Erma Bombeck
Worry a little bit every day and in a lifetime you will lose a couple of years. If something is wrong, fix it if you can. But train yourself not to worry. Worry never fixes anything.—Ernest Hemingway
One late afternoon, wanting to be alone, I entered an unknown cathedral and sat down amid the silence and the semi-darkness. It was a gloomy place at that hour, and had I not known that I was in a house of God, I should not have cared to have been there. The windows were especially foreboding. Presently, a caretaker approached me, and thinking that he wished me to leave so that he could lock up, I started to go. “Oh, no,” he whispered, “don’t go until the lights come on, wait till the lights come on!” So I waited. The room became darker, the shadows deepened, the windows were ugly and repelling and I wanted so much to leave. But then, suddenly, the streetlights came on outside and the whole scene was miraculously changed!
What a beautiful transformation! I thought I had never seen such exquisite coloring, such heavenly suggestiveness as those stained-glass windows gave forth in their wonderful coloring. Everything was enhanced with unearthly beauty that fed my soul, and I wanted to capture it and keep it forever. Then I thought of the darkness and the discouragement which many times shrouded my own spirit and how inexplicably it can vanish with the joy of hope coming in and its light flooding my soul. I had learned a secret from that old caretaker, yes, I had, and many times since I have thought of that. “Wait till the lights come on.”—Francis E. Seaworth
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.—John 14:27
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.—Deuteronomy 31:6
Published on Anchor October 2024. Read by John Laurence.
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