I’d like to tell you I live a life of carefree contentment—that worry never ends up crashing at my house. But that would be a lie.
Over the years, Matthew 6 and Luke 12 have brought me so much comfort, especially Matthew 6:34 (NIV): “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” It’s one of those verses that helps me step back and take a breath.
When I was in high school, I managed worry by avoiding it. Every time I thought, “Oh, no—the SAT is coming up,” I’d tell myself, “No, that’s a long way away.” It worked better than you might think, but when you’re two days out from a stressful event, it gets harder and harder to gaslight yourself.
As I’ve gotten older, not much has changed. I hit a few different crossroads lately—and, true to form, they all showed up the same week. I swatted a few away quickly, but I wrestled with one decision for a long time. It felt like I wasn’t getting clarity when I prayed, and I received conflicting advice from others.
“It felt like I wasn’t getting clarity when I prayed, and I received conflicting advice from others.”
Then, in the midst of the confusion, I noticed a little bird in my flowerbed. I was watering some plants, and it hopped and fluttered its wings to scurry out of reach. Something was obviously wrong with it, but I lost sight of it and moved on with my day.
The next day, as my garage door was opening, my dog crouched down, staring at something. The bird was back, sitting right outside my house, staring up at us. When I tried to catch it, it ran away again and buried its head in a plant. I had to gently tug on its tail feathers to get it into a bucket where I could give it food and water.
A little later, Matthew 10:29-31 (NIV) came to mind: “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”
I don’t know how often sparrows fall to the ground at your house, but it’s a rare occurrence at mine. (And it was actually a sparrow—I checked.) I’d even mentioned that passage to a friend two nights earlier. But, then, it’s always easier to apply Scripture to other people’s lives and circumstances, isn’t it?
“Then, in the midst of the confusion, I noticed a little bird in my flowerbed.”
Trying to help that sparrow was a reminder that, no matter where I am in life, God knows. He knows what I have and what I need. Just like that scared little bird.
Hagar put it so well in Genesis 16:13 (NIV): “You are the God who sees me….”
Friend, God sees you right now. He knows where you are and what you’re facing. And not in a vague sense—intimately, completely. I don’t know what challenges you’ve experienced or you’re working through today, but reflecting on my testimony, for every storm I’ve faced, I can look back and name a person God brought into my life to help me through it. Most importantly, He was there in each of the storms.
He’s at work in your life, too.
Matthew 6 and Luke 12 speak directly to material need—particularly, food and clothing. There are tangible needs in our communities and around the world. The body of Christ can and should play a crucial role in meeting those needs.
“The body of Christ can and should play a crucial role in meeting those needs.”
Many of us have those essentials met, and our worries and fears rest elsewhere. Will we ever be able to retire, pay down a pile of debt, or switch careers? Will we ever find friends we can rely on? Will we ever get married or be able to start a family? Will we feel happy again after suffering grief? Is reconciliation possible? These thoughts often crop up in a season of waiting when it feels like walking through a narrow canyon—no way out but through.
In these moments, we can make a plan and take action. We can ignore it. We can worry. Or we can place our circumstances in God’s hands and take another step. If you’re like me, you cycle through all four, depending on the day.
In the story of the Exodus, we see that familiar cycle of contentment, worry, and God’s provision play out repeatedly. When the Israelites first entered the wilderness, they needed food. God brought them manna and quail. When they had no water, God intervened.
In Exodus 16:8 (NIV), Moses said this of the miraculous bread and meat: “You will know that it was the Lord….”
God didn’t bring Israel out of Egypt to destroy them. He brought them into a wilderness to discipline their hearts into dependence upon Him. Flip back through the plagues. God could have just wiped out the Egyptians and given the Israelites their land instead of leading them to Canaan.
But He didn’t. That wasn’t His will.
“In the story of the Exodus, we see that familiar cycle of contentment, worry, and God’s provision play out repeatedly.”
I’m reminded of the story of Gideon in the Book of Judges. God whittled his army down to 300 men. To an outside observer, they were on a death mission. But these men weren’t just skilled soldiers. They trusted that the God of their ancestors—the One who’d led them victoriously out of Egypt—was strong enough to save.
That’s contentment in the wilderness and calm in the storm.
If worries are weighing heavily on you today, would you recenter your thoughts on our sovereign and compassionate God? He didn’t abandon the Israelites, and He’s not going to abandon you. As Luke 12:31 (NIV) says, “You are worth more than many sparrows.”
