Lauren Denton Headline
Each week at school, my youngest daughter Sela’s teachers help her and her classmates memorize a simple verse. She came home a few weeks ago with the verse, “Do not be anxious about anything.” In previous weeks, I’d been sort of lax in going over the verse with her at home to help her memorize it, so this week, we said it together several times a day. I’d usually say it, then ask her to repeat it. If she stumbled, I’d break it into two-word phrases. “Do not. Be anxious. About anything.” It only took a few tries before she was spouting it off all day, at various times.
One morning that week on the way to school, I saw her turn to the stuffed puppy she’d brought with her into the car. Unprompted, she directed that puppy to not be anxious (or, as she said it, “ankish”) about anything. That morning, my mind had been running in a hundred different directions, thinking of a friend’s sick mother, a beloved teacher having a PET scan, a recent death in my family and all the upheaval related to it, various other illnesses in people I love.
Hearing those words, “Do not be anxious,” tumble so easily from my daughter’s mouth was a balm. She’s way too young to worry about the adult things that were on my mind, but hearing those words that morning was like hearing another voice saying, “Hey — this is for you, too.” They’re not just a memory verse for preschoolers — they’re true words for us to live by.
They don’t promise that nothing bad will happen. The promise comes in the next part of the verse: Through prayer and with thanksgiving for the good things in our life, we present our requests to God. A petition. A request for action. Then the peace comes — that’s the promise. If we’re truly able to lay those requests down and walk away, trusting the One who knows how to best work out the particulars of our life, that peace will guard our hearts and minds. It’s so simple yet so hard.
I recently heard author and speaker Nancy Guthrie talk about her emotional rollercoaster after learning that her newborn son would likely only live a few months. They knew they had a finite amount of time with him, so instead of being anxious or sad, she told herself she had the rest of her life to be sad — today, she was going to rejoice that she had a son to hold and love. As gut-wrenching as it was to listen to her talk about that experience, I was able to apply some of that wisdom to my own life.
For me, being anxious usually involves me worrying about something that very well may not happen. I just worry about the possibility of it. Instead of expending so much time and mental energy fretting and worrying, I pray I can instead say, “Today, it — the thing — is not happening. Today, I will rejoice.” If the thing ends up happening, then we can deal with it, but until then, pray and move on. It’s an attitude that’s easy to speak of, much harder in practice, but likely much more life-giving and liberating.
After dinner one night during the week of the “Do not be anxious” verse, we asked Sela why we don’t need to be anxious. She said it was because of God in our hearts. Such a simple answer for such a simple time in life. We can’t go back to being children, immune to the very real hurts and struggles in life, but maybe we can follow our children in their very real sense of trust and certainty that all will be well.
I’d love to connect! Email me at Lauren@LaurenKDenton.com, find me on Twitter @LaurenKDenton, on Instagram @LaurenKDentonBooks, on Facebook, or visit my website LaurenKDenton.com. My first novel, “The Hideaway,” releases April 11, 2017, and is available for pre-order from Amazon.
