Then Jesus said to his disciples: "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?
It's been creeping on since around the holidays.
You know how it goes.
A nibble here, an extra taste there.
And before you know it, those months of self-discipline and strength training and focus are just about shot.
I've got to put myself on a worry diet.
I know better than to even let myself start snacking on worry again--because when I do, I just can't seem to put it down. I know it's not good for me. I know it's going to derail my spiritual exercise. I know it has zero nutritional value for my soul.
But I nibble at it anyway.
And then I take a big bite.
And then I'm in a full-out worry gorge session, chewing on every issue, tasting all the shades of bitter and fear.
The added weight of the world makes my robes of righteousness pinch and bind.
And I'm such a midnight snacker.
What is it about the nighttime hours, when the house is quiet and the day is done, that compels me to sneak on bare feet to the pantry of pessimism and begin pilfering through the mental junk food? Why do I shake the boxes of Worry Warts, Fearful Fruities, Panicky Pretzels? What satisfaction do I expect to find there? When I taste the tinge of worry, the voracious appetite for circumstantial control and impatience comes roaring into demand. I stuff myself with apprehension, only to feel bloated and worse.
So it's back on the worry diet for me. Healthy snacks of the Word. Prayer walks for toning. Good vitamins of wisdom. A big spoonful of patience. All wrapped in a whole grain loaf of a little thing called Trust.
The one antidote for fighting the battle of the worry bulge.