I was reading Jeremiah today, the satisfying part toward the end when the Lord tells Jeremiah He's going to destroy Babylon. He tells Israel to flee Babylon because of the coming destruction, but then He says an interesting thing: don't worry when you hear rumors, and don't worry when you see violence break out. (Jer. 55:41)
It recalled to me Christ in Matthew reassuring us that there will be wars and rumors of wars, but not to worry about them, because the end is not yet.
That made me think about the number of things we worry about that we're specifically told not to worry about. For instance:
World events - wars, rumors, and political happenings. We worry a great deal about things like gay marriage, federalized healthcare, and whether churches will have to pay taxes. It's not that these things are good, pleasant, or that we should vote to support them, but ultimately they're not important and we have no business spending one morsel of extra thought on them. (I.e., the process should go: is this thing I'm being asked to vote on supported in Scripture? No? Vote no. All done. Stop thinking about it.)
Having enough - money, time, stuff. Most Christians realize they're not supposed to worry about these things, but they do anyway because they have a hard time drawing the line between responsibility and worry. I find that it's very helpful to consciously, every day, thank God for what He's given you, and acknowledge that ultimately money, time, and stuff are out of your control. Then do your duty, work hard, and stop thinking about it.
The list goes on. In fact there's not much--not anything that I can think of off the top of my head, but correct me in the comments if needed--that Scripture says we are allowed to worry about, in the sense that worry is cyclic fear that usually doesn't do much but distract us.
And that's the key. Like lust, resentment, or discontentment, worry is a repetitive way of thinking that the Enemy uses to distract us. If we are so wrapped up in the way someone's body looks, whether someone said that to us on purpose, whether the other person has a bigger sandwich, or whether the Republocrats are going to win the election, we don't have the mental energy left to think about things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, or praiseworthy.
The only way to fight repetitive thinking is to bop it firmly on the head whenever we realize we're doing it. The easiest way is to have chosen, ahead of time, something else to think about or do. For instance, I am tempted regularly to think about a church we left under bad circumstances and to sort of peversely hope that the bad things I told them would happen--happen. How awful is that? I don't want those things to happen to anybody, if I think about it objectively. So I have decided that when I have those thoughts, I'm going to consciously stop and pray that the Lord protects that church and makes it grow in holiness. I don't feel--at all--like praying for that church to grow. But it's not such a big discipline, and I refuse to be drawn into resentment and bitterness.
Does this mean I have figured out how to avoid sinful thought patterns? Of course not; I do my share of moping about infringements on my dignity and the fact that I can't choose how my time is spent, wanting something that isn't mine, and worrying about the price of tea in China. But I share the technique in the hopes that maybe I'll help someone.
Cheers,
Breanna
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