The Cure for Care
J. R. Miller
There is no life into which do not come many things
calculated to cause anxiety and distraction of mind. There are great
sorrows; there are perplexities as to duty; there are disappointments and
losses; there are annoyances and hindrances; there are chafings and
irritations in ordinary life; and there are countless petty cares and frets.
All of these tend to break the heart’s peace and to disturb its quiet, yet
there is no lesson that is urged more continuously or more earnestly in the
Scriptures than that a Christian should never worry or let care oppress his
heart. He is to live without distraction and with peace unbroken even in the
midst of the most trying experiences. If, then, we are never to be anxious,
never to take distracting thought, what are we to do with the thousand
things calculated to perplex us and produce anxiety? If we are not to take
thought about these matters, who will do it for us? Who is to think for us?
Who is to unravel the tangles for our unskilled fingers? When cares and
anxieties come to our hearts, what are we to do with them?
Some one may say that it is impossible to avoid worrying. The disturbing
experiences will come into our lives, and we cannot shut them out. It is
true they will come, but it is not true that we must admit them and
surrender ourselves to their power. It was a saying of Luther that we cannot
prevent the birds flying about our heads, but we can prevent them building
their nests in our hair. In like manner, it is impossible to keep cares from
flocking in great swarms around us, but it is our own fault if they are
allowed to make nests in our hearts. We are to hold our hearts’ doors and
windows shut against them just as resolutely as against the temptations that
constantly assail us, craving admission into our lives.
This applies to all our worries, whether great or small. We are apt to say,
“Oh yes, but my trial is peculiar. It is one of those that cannot be kept
out, laid down or cast off.” But there is no such exception made in the
divine plan of living marked out for us in the inspired word. Anxiety or
distraction is never to be admitted. Nothing, small or great, is to disturb
our peace. We may have sorrow or suffering or toil or painful stress and
strain—but never worry. What, then, is the divine life-plan? What are we to
do with our cares? Everything that threatens to give us anxiety is to be
taken at once to God. Nothing is too great to carry to Him. Does not He bear
up all worlds? Does not He rule over all the affairs of the universe? Is
there any matter in our life, how great soever it may seem to us, too hard
for Him to manage? Is any perplexity too sore for Him to resolve? Is any
human despair too dark for Him to illumine with hope? Is there any tangle or
confusion out of which He cannot extricate us? Or is anything too small to
bring to Him? Is He not our Father, and is He not interested in whatever
concerns us?
There is not one of the countless things that fly like specks of dust all
through our daily life, tending to vex and fret us that we may not take to
God. And this is the cure, which the Scriptures prescribe for care. The
divine philosophy of living says: “Don't worry about anything; instead, pray
about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.
If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful
than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and
minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”
Refer every disturbing thing to Him, that He may bear the burden of it. “But
why should I have to make it known to Him?” asks some one. “He knows all
about it already. Why must I take it to Him?” It is reason enough that He
has asked us to do it; and if we will not make it known to Him, can we
complain if He does not help us? He needs us to learn to confide in Him and
to flee to Him in every moment of perplexity or pressure. Whenever there
comes into our experience a difficulty, an annoyance—anything that tends to
produce irritation or anxiety or alarm or confusion—we are to carry it at
once to God. We are to get it somehow out of our unskilled hands and off our
frail shoulder into the hands and over upon the shoulder of Christ. It is
not enough to kneel down and say a prayer, nor is it enough to pray about
the particular matter that worries us, asking for help or deliverance. Only
the most simple-hearted definiteness in prayer will meet the need. We must
bring the very perplexity itself and put it out of our hands into God’s,
that He may work it out for us.
We are to bring the matter as literally to Him as we would carry a broken
watch to the watchmaker’s, leaving it for him to repair and readjust. A
little child playing with a handful of cords, when they begin to get into a
tangle, goes at once to her mother, that her patient fingers may unravel the
snarl. How much better this than to pull and tug at the cords until the
tangle becomes inextricable! May not many of us learn a lesson from the
little child? Would it not be better for us, whenever we find the slightest
entanglement in any of our affairs, or the arising of any perplexity, to
take it at once to God, that His skillful hands may set it right? Then,
having taken it to Him, and put it into His hands, we are to leave it with
Him; having gotten it off our own shoulder upon His, we are to allow it to
remain there.
But it is just at this point that most of us fail. We tell God about our
worries, and then go on worrying still as if we had never gone to Him at
all, or as if He had refused to help us. We pray about our cares, but do not
cast them off. We make supplication, but do not unload our burdens. Praying
does us no good. It makes us no more contented, or submissive, or patient,
or peaceful. We do not get the worries out of our own hands at all. This is
the vital point in the whole matter.
Or perhaps we do cast the burden upon God while we are praying, and feel for
the moment a strange sense of joy in our soul. We rise and go a few steps as
light-hearted as an angel. We have given God our cares to keep. But in a
little while we have gathered up all the old burdens and anxieties again,
and have them once more on our own shoulder, and we go bowing under them,
fretting and worrying as before.
But is that the best the religion of Christ can do for us? Is that the full
meaning of the privilege expressed in so many golden promises in the
Scriptures? Is a little moment’s rest from anxiety in the midst of long days
of care all that it is possible for us to obtain?
During the brief pauses of a great battle the soldiers heard a sparrow sing
snatches of song from among the branches of a tree. Then, when the awful
roar burst out again, its song was hushed. Is that the full meaning of the
peace that Christ promises? Is it only a sweet bird-note now and then amid
the long days and years of discontent and struggle? They sadly misread the
blessed words of divine comfort who find nothing better than this promise.
We are permitted to roll our care entirely over on God and to let it stay
there. We are to put the broken plan, the shattered hope, the tangled work,
the complicated affair, into the hands of the God of providence, leaving the
ordering and outcome of it to His wisdom. The provocation, the friction, the
burden that presses sorely, the annoyance, the hindrance,—instead of
permitting ourselves to be vexed, exasperated or disturbed by them, we are
quietly to turn the matter over to God, and then go on calmly to the next
duty that comes to our hand. And, having done this, we are to cease to
worry. We have given the perplexity to God. We have asked Him to think for
us, plan for us, and take the ordering of the affair into His own hands. It
is our matter, therefore, no longer, but His.
Should we not be willing to trust Him? We put our worldly affairs and
interests into the hands of men, and feel that they are safe. We commit our
sicknesses to the skill of our physician. Business complications we confide
to the wisdom of our lawyer. A broken machine we turn over to a mechanic. Is
not God wise enough to manage the complications of our lives, and to bring
order and beauty out of them? Has He not skill enough? Is He not our Father?
and will He not always do the very best and wisest thing for us? Should we
not trust Him, and cease to be anxious about anything that we have committed
to Him? Is not anxiety doubt and unbelief? and is not doubt and unbelief
sin?
We are to commit our way to the Lord, trust Him and be at peace. The only
thing that concerns us is our duty. God will weave the web into patterns of
beauty unless by our follies and sins we mar it. But we must not hurry Him.
His plans are sometimes very long, and our impatience may mar them, as well
as our sins. The buds of His purposes must not be torn open. We must wait
until His fingers unfold them.
God’s plans, like lilies pure and white, unfold:
We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart;
Time will reveal the calyxes of gold.
And if, through patient toil, we reach the land
Where tired feet, with sandals loose, may rest,
Where we shall clearly know and understand,
I think that we will say, ‘God knew the best.’