27th February 2011----Eighth Sunday after Epiphany
“No Hang-Ups”
Matthew 6:24-34
We often talk about something called a “hang-up”. It would be true to say that most of us have our personal hang-up. We’re hung up, as they say, when we get all uptight about something or other. People have hang-ups on all sorts of things. They get hung up about war, pollution of air and water, adulteration of food, corruption of films and TV, inflation, problems of race, people living off the dole, public health and education. Any one of these so-called hang-ups can in themselves be legitimate concerns. But the question is: what is it that really troubles people? Is it what is happening today, or is it what we worry might happen tomorrow? Do we perhaps say to ourselves that if this keeps up and this doesn’t stop, then what will happen to us tomorrow?
Our Lord had a human view of the whole situation. He was a man like us, and he could see the humour of all this worrying. “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” The point of that was, of course, that worrying never changed anything. That’s what Jesus is saying here. Actually he’s saying more than just that. For twice in Today’s Gospel he says “Therefore...do not worry!” Because he said it twice, it would appear he didn’t want anybody to miss its importance. Actually what he said was this: Don’t worry at all! Don’t be anxious! Don’t get any hang-ups at all over tomorrow! It doesn’t add anything to life. If it does anything at all, it takes away from life. Worry kills. Worst of all, it kills the spirit of a person. And, if he doesn’t have peace in his soul; if he doesn’t know the forgiveness of Christ; if he hasn’t learnt to enjoy life in Christ, then he’s always headed to the grave—and that is something to worry about.
Jesus put his finger on the sore spot when he said that you cannot have two masters in your life. This means that there cannot be two authorities competing with each other. If there are, then you will be anxious about tomorrow. If you try to serve both authorities----“God and money”; if you try to keep both in balance, walking the fence between your trust in God and your dependence upon yourself, between your faith in God and your reliance upon the material resources which you’ve been able to gather in your lifetime----then you’re going to get hopelessly, helplessly “hung-up”.
The story is told about an aeroplane pilot in the South Pacific who heard a gnawing sound in his plane one day and discovered that it was a type of rat from that area which had somehow got aboard the plane with the cargo. The pilot was afraid that the rodent would destroy some vital connection in his aircraft by his gnawing and chewing. But for the moment he didn’t know what to do about it. Then suddenly he remembered that even rats had to have oxygen in order to live. So, putting on his own oxygen mask, he turned his plane upward—higher, higher and still higher—until at 25,000-feet, the gnawing finally stopped. The rat just couldn’t live in the higher atmosphere.
If we try to translate this into picture language, then worry can be described in terms of that rat. Worry, like the rat, can’t live in the higher atmosphere of faith. Worry can’t breathe in the air of prayer made in all confidence to God. It just dies a natural death there, maybe not all at once; but finally it does die just the same.
But the Gospel text is still so difficult for us. In the face of the brutal problems of existence what can we do with these words: “Don’t worry...Look at the birds, consider the lilies”? We’re anxious for the future. For, after all, our everyday life is filled with some very downright, realistic concerns. The farmers and businessmen torment themselves with the problems of droughts and floods. The mother worries about the future of her children, and young people are afraid they will miss something life has to offer. The student worries over his examinations and the aging woman fears that soon the door will be closed upon her. Is there any need to go on describing this vicious circle of anxiety in which we are caught?
So we ask ourselves quite simply what Jesus meant by saying “Don’t worry.” Jesus is really directing our attention to the fact that even with and despite our perfectly justified concerns, we can be unfaithful to God. How is that possible, you ask? It can so easily happen when we take all the tasks and gifts, which we have received from God is the first place, and set them above the Giver, and thus give preference to the created things over the Creator. But in the language of the Bible this way of turning things upside down is called “idolatry”. We are anxious, for example, about food and clothing. As God’s children we know that we get them from God’s hand. After all, it is he who creates all life and all that is necessary for life. But often we worry about the means by which God could and should help us. So we are torn between faith and doubt, anxiety and trust.
The beginning of anxiety is the end of faith, and the beginning of true faith is the end of anxiety. George Muller Massena, one of Napoleon's generals, suddenly appeared with 18,000 soldiers before an Austrian town which had no means of defending itself. The town council met together, certain that capitulation was the only answer. The old dean of the church reminded the council that it was Easter, and begged them to hold services as usual and to leave the trouble in God's hands. They followed his advice. The dean went to the church and rang the bells to announce the service. The French soldiers heard the church bells ring and concluded that the Austrian army had come to rescue the town. They broke camp, and before the bells had ceased ringing, vanished.
Reinhold Niebuhr’s now-famous prayer is an eloquent reminder to us all: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” When we consider this prayer in light of Jesus’ words in our Gospel text today, we are inevitably drawn to his call to fix our eyes on God and his kingdom. Once we dare to do this, then in every circumstance we will also be sure that everything else “will be ours as well”. Jesus reminds us that we need to focus on our relationship with God and let God worry about the details of the future. The saying is true: “I don’t know what the future will bring, but I know who brings the future”. We don’t know the details of tomorrow, let alone a blueprint for heaven. But we do know that our Lord will be with us not only today and tomorrow but for all eternity.
A touching story tells of two dogs on an ocean voyage—a disconcerting event for a dog who’s never been to sea. One was in a proper kennel with adequate food and care but spent the entire voyage confused and terrified; after all, he didn’t know where he was or where he was going or what it would be like when he got there. A second dog was also on her first voyage; she too was properly kennelled, fed, and cared for. She too had no idea where she was, where she was headed, or what it would be like when she arrived. But she was calm and curious during the entire voyage. Why? Because her master was with her. And while she had no sense of what was ahead, she knew in whose company she would be, and her trust in the master eased her anxiety and fear.
When anxious fears creep into your life, may God grant you the grace to trust in God’s providence and steadfast love. May you know the peace of the Lord, who says “Don’t be anxious; you may not know what tomorrow will bring, but I will bring tomorrow. Whatever else may or may not be true of your life, remember this: you will be with me—always. Therefore don’t get hung up about tomorrow. Let God take care of that. Amen.
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