Midweek Musing- 4/22/26

Midweek Musing April 22, 2026

One of the hardest things Jesus asks us to do also sounds quite simple: do not worry.

Indeed, worry is one of the things Jesus speaks directly about in his teaching. But it seems he also knew just how hard that would be for us.

“Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life…”

“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin…”

“So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

One of the reasons I believe Jesus tells us not to worry is because worry keeps us from living here and now. Jesus knows that living in the present allows us to fully engage the people in front of us. It allows us to see the opportunities before us to exhibit love, mercy, justice, kindness, and faithfulness in the very places God has set us.

Now, let’s be clear: in telling us not to worry, Jesus is not condemning planning.

Planning is part of wisdom. We make calendars. We prepare meals. We save money. We go to doctor’s appointments. We think ahead about our families, our churches, and our responsibilities. None of that is wrong. In fact, some of it is deeply faithful.

The issue comes when planning stops being a tool and starts becoming something that torments us.

Problems arise when all our plans become buried in worry. With worry, we start trying not just to prepare for tomorrow, but to control it. And when we begin living in an imagined future instead of the actual present where God has placed us, we miss out on life itself.

Most of the time, worry begins in fear.

Fear whispers that we are not enough.

That we will never have enough.

That we will never be enough.

Fear tells us that the world is unstable and dangerous and that all the bad things we see happening “out there” could happen to us next.

Fear convinces us that if we can just think hard enough, prepare enough, predict enough, or hoard enough, then maybe we can save ourselves.

But fear does not save us. It does not make us whole. Fear shrinks us.

And more than that, fear divides us. It makes us suspicious. Defensive. Fear turns neighbor into threat.

It can harden into worry, and worry can harden into bitterness, and bitterness can harden into hatred.

And far too often, hatred becomes violence, whether in word or deed. And violence only feeds the spiral all over again, creating more fear, more division, and more worry.

It is a terrible cycle.

And Jesus steps right into the middle of it and says: Do not worry.

That does not mean pretending bad things never happen.

They do.

I have been reminded of that truth far too clearly in recent days. People in my circle have experienced the sudden loss of family members and friends. The kind of losses that come without warning. The kind that remind us, painfully, that tomorrow is never promised.

And that is exactly why worry is such a thief.

Worry tricks us into rehearsing tragedies that may never come while also stealing the life from the day we actually have.

It robs us of holy attention. It pulls us away from the small acts of goodness to which we are called right now. It distracts us from loving the person in front of us, serving the neighbor beside us, and noticing the beauty of the flowers blooming today.

Jesus does not call us to denial. He calls us to trust.

Elsewhere he says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” That is not sentimental language. That is a real invitation. Jesus can handle burdens that crush us. Jesus can carry what we were never meant to carry alone.

As one commentator put it, “We do not honor God by clutching every fear to our chest as though anxiety were a form of discipleship. We honor God by trusting enough to live the day we have been given.”

That may be the real challenge: to truly understand that our present and presence matters. To believe that today is where discipleship happens. Today is where mercy is practiced. Today is where justice is pursued. Today is where kindness is offered. Today is where the call of God is answered.

Our presence in the world depends on our being present to the day.

That may sound simple, but it is not easy.

It means releasing what we cannot control. It means admitting that some things are beyond us. It means refusing to let fear narrate our lives. It means doing the good that is ours to do today. It means trusting that God is already in the tomorrow we have not yet reached.

The lilies do not know what next week will bring. They simply bloom in the sunlight they have been given.

And maybe that is the invitation for us as well. Not to stop caring. Not to stop preparing. Not to stop being wise.

But to stop letting fear run the show.

To stop feeding the cycle of worry.

To trust that the God who clothes the lilies and watches over the sparrows is not absent from our lives.

And to live this day fully, faithfully, and lovingly.

Because this day is a gift.

And this day is enough.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Alleluia. Amen.