Monday, June 21, 2010

How can I stop worrying?

"How can I stop worrying?" That was listed as one of the top AOL searches this morning, along with "employment websites." ,"NASCAR results and "What happened on 'True Blood?'"



The news tells us that there are riots,explosions, skirmishes and wars everywhere, in the streets and at Nordstrom's during the Anniversary Sale. The Earth is being destroyed by spilled oil, global warming and The Bacholerette.

Tornadoes and earthquakes, floods and droughts are more common than not, and strike everywhere. No place is safe. Or is it?



God's word says that those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty and that He is my my refuge, my place of safety, for he is my God and I trust Him. (Psalm 91)



Advertisements tell us we are not thin enough, are balding, have a multitude of physical ailments which we never even heard of and need a new wardrobe so we can even leave the house . And they have an app a pill for that.



God says His grace is enough. And that He will provide what we need.






We all have our daily worries. New jobs, old jobs. No jobs. Illnesses, Why does my back hurt? What am I going to make for dinner, arguments discussions with spouses or kids, THE RAIN THAT WILL NOT STOP, Will these boots go with those jeans? Why is my friend sick? What if the wrong American Idol wins? What if this blog is too long?,What is going to happen tomorrow? Or the next day? (and my worries and concerns are all bigger and more important than yours. Not really. It just sometimes feels like that, doesn't it?)




Charles Spurgeon spoke on addressing our fears and worries in his sermon entitles "My Times are in Your Hands" based on Psalm 31:15 and delivered on May 17, 1891. Here is an excerpt:




"The great truth is this — all that concerns the believer is in the hands of the Almighty God. “My times”, these change and shift; but they change only in accordance with unchanging love, and they shift only according to the purpose of One with whom is no variableness nor shadow of a turning. “My times”, that is to say, my ups and my downs, my health and my sickness, my poverty and my wealth — all those are in the hand of the Lord, who arranges and appoints according to his holy will the length of my days, and the darkness of my nights. Storms and calms vary the seasons at the divine appointment. Whether times are reviving or depressing remains with him who is Lord both of time and of eternity; and we are glad it is so."




"To have our times in God’s hand must mean not only that they are at God’s disposal, but that they are arranged by the highest wisdom. God’s hand never errs; and if our times are in his hand, those times are ordered rightly. We need not puzzle our brains to understand the dispensations of Providence: a much easier and wiser course is open to us; namely, to believe the hand of the Lord works all things for the best. Sit thou still, O child, at thy great Father’s feet, and let him do as seemeth him good! When thou canst not comprehend him, know that a babe cannot understand the wisdom of its sire. Thy Father comprehends all things, though thou dost not: let his wisdom be enough for thee. Everything in the hand of God is where it may be left without anxiety; and it is where it will be carried through to a prosperous issue. Things prosper which are in his hand. “My times are in thy hand,” is an assurance that none can disturb, or pervert, or poison them. In that hand we rest as securely as rests a babe upon its mother’s breast. Where could our interests be so well secured as in the eternal hand? What a blessing it is to see by the eye of faith all things that concern you grasped in the hand of God! What peace as to every matter which could cause anxiety flows into the soul when we see all our hopes built upon so stable a foundation, and preserved by such supreme power! “My times are in thy hand!”
Oh to be able to say 'My times are in his hand.", believe it and then live like I believe it.




“My times are in thy hand.” Does not this reveal the condescension of the Lord? He has all heaven to worship him, and all worlds to govern; and yet “my times” — the times of such an inconsiderable and unworthy person as I am — are in his hand. Now, what is man that it should be so? Wonder of wonders, that God should not only think of me, but should make my concerns his concerns, and take my matters into his hand! He has the stars in his hand, and yet he puts us there. He deigns to take in hand the passing interests of obscure men and lowly women.
Beloved, God is near his people with all his attributes; his wisdom, his power, his faithfulness, his immutability; and these are under oath to work for the good of those who put their trust in him. “All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” Yes, God considers our times, and thinks them over; with his heart and soul planning to do us good. That august mind, out of which all things spring, bows itself to us; and those eternal wings, which cover the universe, also brood over us and our household, and our daily wants and woes. Our God sits not still as a listless spectator of our griefs, suffering us to be drifted like waifs upon the waters of circumstance; but is busily occupying himself at all times for the defense and perfecting of his children. He leads us that he may bring us home to the place where his flock shall rest for ever."


Then at the end of his sermon, he lets us know there is struggle in his own life:




"I have not been able to preach on this text as I hoped to do, for I am full of pain, and have a heavy headache; but, thank God, I have no heartache, with such a glorious truth before me. Sweet to my soul are these words — “My times are in thy hand.” Take the golden sentence home with you. Keep this truth in your mind. Let it lie on your tongue like a wafer made with honey. Let it dissolve until your whole nature is sweetened by it....“My times are in thy hand.” This little sentence, to my mind, swells into a hymn: it buds and blossoms into a psalm. Few are the words, but mighty is the sense, and full of rest.



Amen, Mr. Spurgeon.

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