be anxious for nothing

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

Philippians 4:4-9

This week, I had the pleasure of listening to an excellent sermon on the above passage, and like all excellent sermons, it forced me to think.

I memorized this passage in Awana as a kid. It’s one of those universally-loved sets of verses that frequents Christian greeting cards, bookmarks, and journal covers, to the point of becoming so commonplace that we could easily - tragically - miss its riches entirely. I know I have, for far too many years.

But do you see it? This is no Pauline greeting card. This is the Biblical cure for the anxiety that runs so rampant within us.

I am an anxious person. I worry ad nauseam - about my circumstances, about my family, about unknown outcomes. It is my pet sin. I hate it, and yet I return to it again and again, like an addictive substance from which I cannot get free.

I think the biggest reason I’ve ignored Paul’s cure for worry all these years is that I’ve tried praying. I’ve tried to “be anxious for nothing” - oh, how I’ve tried! But trying harder makes no difference. Even praying more makes no difference - sometimes it even makes it worse, because it slaps a spiritual-sounding name on my sinful ruminating, and gives me an excuse to continue to dwell on my fears while I wait for God to change my circumstances.

The Philippians 4 cure for worry and anxiety hasn’t worked for me. But it’s not because there’s a flaw in the cure - it’s because of a flaw in me, and in my administration of the cure.

Verse 6 - “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God” - is no Christian fortune cookie statement. It’s sandwiched into a context, some of which is made up of verses 4-5 and verses 7-9. It’s not meant to be taken as a magic pill, but as one piece of a changing heart.

That heart-change begins here: “Rejoice in the Lord always.”

Every word of that instruction matters as part of the cure.

Rejoice: The Biblical definition of joy (borrowing from the wisdom of my Bible teacher) is “The resolute assurance that God cares about and has the ability to handle my problems.” That’s the joy Paul is commanding. Not jump-up-and-down gladness, not a constant “good Christian smile,” but a resolute assurance that God knows and God cares - that God is equally sovereign and good.

In the Lord: This is a rejoicing that wouldn’t stop even if you journeyed to hell and back, because it depends on just one never-changing thing: The character of God. We do not rejoice in our circumstances, but we rejoice in the Lord. The kind of joy that can cure anxiety is anchored eternally to the One who does not move, shift, alter, or end. But take heed: this means that if you want the cure to work, you must know God for who He is, not for who you have mistakenly assumed Him to be because of your upbringing or your parents or your pastor. You must have confidence that He IS both sovereign and good, or you will never trust Him enough to rejoice. And the best way to truly know God, without prejudice or preconception, is to know His Word, and to walk with Him through the mountains and valleys of life.

Always: The command is not “Rejoice.” It is not “Rejoice in the Lord.” It is “Rejoice in the Lord always.” Our God is changeless, but we are fickle, and so Paul has to warn us that if we are going to successfully kill the sin of worry, we must be committed to trusting God’s character at all times - not just when things are going well, and not just when we feel like it, but always.

This is the call to heart-transformation that precedes verse 6.

I’ve tried to stop being anxious, and I’ve tried to pray it all away, but it has never worked because I have failed to lay the foundation of trust first. No matter how much I pray about my problems, they will remain apparently insurmountable if I see God as smaller, weaker, or meaner than He is.

And then, in verse 7, Paul paints even more necessary but often-forgotten detail into the picture of this cure: “And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

When we take verse 6 by itself, as I have so often done, we assume certain results. If only we can be anxious for nothing long enough to make our requests known to God, surely He will notice our heroic efforts and change the circumstances that are giving us so much grief - right?

Wrong.

Again, this is no magic pill; it’s transformation. It’s no overnight cure; it’s a process - a process of heart-change. Not circumstance-change.

The result of making my requests known to God is not necessarily the instant resolution of my complaints. But if I have laid the foundation of trust and am rejoicing in the Lord always, I can count on God to do one magnificent work in response to my prayers: guard my heart with His incomprehensible peace.

My circumstances may not change.

The people around me may still suffer.

The outcomes may not go my way.

But my anxiety is gone, because the peace of God stands guard over me.

That part doesn’t usually make it onto the greeting card, but it’s the most important truth of all: My circumstances do not define God’s character, and because of that, they don’t have to define my state of mental health. But God’s character absolutely defines how I should view my circumstances.

If I know Him for who He is, I will know that He is sovereign and good. If I know that He is both sovereign and good, I will be free to rejoice always. If I anchor my joy in Him, I will remember to bring my anxiety to Him in prayer and thanksgiving before I let it run my life. And if I bring my anxiety to Him on the foundation of trust that each of these vital pieces has built, I can count on Him to protect my heart, even if my situation does not change.

In conclusion, friends, we follow the instructions of verses 8 and 9: “Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.”

God alone is unfailingly true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, of good repute, excellent, and worthy of praise. So instead of dwelling on our problems, we dwell on who He is.

This is the Biblical cure for anxiety. It’s not a matter of “Stop worrying!” or “Pray more!”, but as so many of the most difficult things are, it’s a matter of the heart, and the heart’s submission to the character of God.

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Note: I would be remiss if I did not point out that not all anxiety is strictly a moral issue. Some anxiety is rooted in an actual disorder and is related to imbalances in our bodies or brains, or psychological trauma that has never been properly addressed. If you suspect that your anxiety is not just a moral choice but something deeper, please don’t hesitate to get help from a doctor, a therapist, or another professional! God created our bodies and brains to work in amazing ways, and due to the fallen world sometimes that means our brains revert to unhealthy self-protection mechanisms. Spiritual means, though vitally important, should not be our sole response to mental or physical ailments.

how to bear fruit (that will remain)

“I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit. You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch and dries up; and they gather them, and cast them into the fire and they are burned. If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be My disciples. Just as the Father has loved Me, I have also loved you; abide in My love. If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love; just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love. These things I have spoken to you so that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full.

“This is My commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends. You are My friends if you do what I command you. No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you. You did not choose Me but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain, so that whatever you ask of the Father in My name He may give to you. This I command you, that you love one another."

John 15:1-17

Though it's now one of my most-beloved (and by far the most annotated) pages in my Bible, I once had a very negative understanding of this passage - one shrouded by the dark shadows of guilt and fear. I looked at the requirement of fruitbearing as a threat (what would happen if I didn't bear enough fruit?), not a loving call to walk with Jesus and allow Him to work through me.

Key to this unfortunate misinterpretation was one central issue, which I have slowly come to recognize as I've studied God's Word for the last half-decade: I had a very limited definition of what “fruit” really was.

In my mind, fruit could only mean evangelism. New converts. Revivals and altar calls, Billy Graham style. Or handing out tracts, or having "intentional" (that word always sounds a bit salesy to me) conversations with the cashier, or preaching on the streetcorners, like John the Baptist. Maybe I was alone in this assumption, but even now, rarely do I hear the word "fruit" mentioned in Christian circles without implications toward sharing the Gospel with unbelievers. It was foreign to me for the first 18 years of my life that it could mean anything else.

But when I actually read the Bible I found (as so often happens) that I was wrong. While evangelism obviously does make up an important part of the reproductive process of Christianity, I can't find any indication that Jesus looks for a mere tally of “decisions for Christ” in our harvest. This is about more than fruit—it is about fruit that will remain.

My fear is that we tend to teach and model evangelism disproportionately, under-representing the vital role of discipleship, so that what we end up with is a whole lot of fragile baby grapes that are never given the tools they need to grow bigger and stronger, and won't even be able to withstand the first frost.

The Apostle Paul, by far one of Christianity's most prolific fruit-bearers, seemed well aware of this hazard, and outlined his goal for the harvest like this:

We proclaim Him, admonishing every man and teaching every man with all wisdom, so that we may present every man complete in Christ. For this purpose also I labor, striving according to His power, which mightily works within me.

Colossians 1:28-29

Notice that he does begin with the declaration of Jesus Christ, which we would call “evangelism.” We proclaim Him. But the sentence does not end there, because evangelism is not the end goal. A “man complete in Christ” is the goal! Evangelism is only the beginning, and to reach the point of completion, every man must be admonished (warned of the depths of his sin nature so that he can choose life in the righteousness of Christ) and taught with all wisdom (retrained in the Word of God so that he can navigate a hostile world without wavering). This can't be done in a weekend retreat or a single conversation; it takes, without exception, a lifetime.

This process, empowered by God, of taking a baby Christian and tending him to maturity in the faith is the whole purpose of Paul’s life of ministry. It is also the exact pattern of biblical discipleship as shown and spoken by Jesus. Compare Paul’s statement with one of the most familiar discipleship passages in Scripture, the Great Commission:

Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

Matthew 28:19-20

Go therefore. This short phrase is one of the most-quoted snippets of Scripture in promoting missions, but mistakenly so. Go therefore is not the imperative of the sentence, but rather the qualifier—it answers the “When?” and “Where?” of this command, but does not embody the command itself. This technicality gets a bit muddied in the text’s translation from Greek to English, and might be more accurately phrased “In your going . . .” or “As you go your way . . .”

And make disciples of all the nations. Here, finally, the actual command—and in fact, the only active verb in the sentence—surfaces: make disciples. We have been given the where and when (“in our going”); now is the “What?” and the “Who?” This is where we find the actual task at hand, the fruit-bearing ministry to which we have all been called as followers of Jesus and branches of the Vine. It's not a call to get more people through the door or to get more hands raised during the altar call; it's a call to invest wholeheartedly in the health and growth of another person's soul as a bondslave of Christ.

Baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. A two-part answer is given to the remaining question, “How?”, and this is part one - the part that might fall under our common term of evangelism in the church today. This is the “We proclaim Him” that Paul declared in Colossians, and it is more than mere street preaching. It is the demand upon every sinful heart to make a choice. Christianity, by its very nature, is is an ultimatum: a choice between Jesus and the world, between eternal life and spiritual death, between the truth and the lie. Those who choose Christ are asked to publicly reject all else and root themselves henceforth in the Truth of the Triune God.

Teaching them to observe all that I commanded you. And here is part two, the essence of discipleship itself: the building up, the training and edifying and carving and shaping of a rough-cut soul into a beautiful temple of the Holy Spirit. The tending and watering and nourishing of a delicate sprout into a healthy fruit-bearing plant. The presenting of “every man complete in Christ” that Paul labored for. And this is by far the piece that demands the most time, energy, perseverance, and focus - which might be why it's the piece that sometimes gets overlooked, or passed off as a job limited to those in full-time ministry, when in reality it's part of the commissioning of us all.

Contrary to what I thought for many years of my life, it takes the whole Great Commission to create a picture of the fruit that the Church was intended to bear. It is the kind of fruit that will remain steadfast and reproduce in like manner through trial and hardship, through cultural rejection and social isolation and family ridicule, and even through the deceptive waters of prosperity and blessing.

The Great Commission isn't summed up in evangelism. Christian fruit isn't measured in how many people we can persuade to pray a prayer. There is so, so much more to this immense calling than just shouting down the world with the Gospel - it's so much bigger, so much harder, so much more beautiful. We're called to abide in Christ and to feed ourselves from His life-blood (apart from which we can do nothing), to allow God to lovingly trim away the things that dilute our effectiveness, to walk in obedience to Him by sacrificially loving one another, and to proclaim His Name with the intent of patiently cultivating the soil of every softened heart with the incredible story of the Word of God.

All of this is part of bearing fruit.

As any farmer can tell you, there is no way to rush the production process, and the imperative tasks aren't the same in all seasons of the year. Sometimes it's the preparation of the soil, sometimes it's the seeding of the earth, sometimes it's the watering of the crops, sometimes it's the harvest. And other times, the only thing to do is wait and rest and trust that God is still at work even while the ground lies dormant.

And I'll say it again: all of it is part of the fruit-bearing.

We, believers, are farmers. And evangelism is just one tiny piece of the vast, patient process of bearing hardy and prolific fruit; both before and after it come times of waiting and tending and weeding - and never giving up.

this is why I write

It's always a little strange when God uses my own words from months past to speak to me all over again. I was just reading this post, and in some ways I think I needed that message now even more than I needed it then.

But maybe they aren't just "my words" as much as my way of processing the words He whispers to my heart, and protecting and preserving those interactions in the best way I know how.

Many believers keep prayer journals or faith journals to keep track of God's work in their lives. I don't think I noticed until today that so do I - only mine is public.

This realization comes in the midst of a battle I've been fighting in my mind, trying to figure out why I write, why I blog, why I've been at this for the past eight years. That's a third of my life and almost an eternity in Internet years. Sometimes I sit down at this desk feeling pressured to say something brilliant because I know there are people watching; other times I sit down at this desk and cry as I type, because I've completely forgotten there are people watching.

Sometimes it feels silly to spend so much money and time to upkeep my own website when it doesn't generate me a dime. Sometimes it's discouraging to read new statistics about shrinking attention spans, or to notice how the posts that get the most traffic are often the short, superficial, bullet-pointed ones. Sometimes I get tired of designing Pinterest-worthy graphics and sharing my thoughts to be picked apart by the masses. 

It's all those times that bring me to this place of fighting with the question, why?

But then I go back, like I did tonight, into the archives of this faith-journal I have made, and am reminded that God is still using those long-ago whispers to speak to me. And if I hadn't written out all that was pressing on me that day about the call of Peter, I probably would have forgotten that interaction with the Holy Spirit had ever happened.

In the end, selfish as it sounds, this is why I write: to process my inmost thoughts, to pursue the Truth, and to better understand the beauty of who God is. I write because I can't not write.

And hopefully, every now and then, a bit of it is helpful to someone else.

I admit that it doesn't always come out especially clickable, Pinterest-worthy, or bullet-pointed, but whether there are zero people watching or a million, my job is just to keep listening for the Voice that says, "Follow Me."