Growing in Faith: Moving Past Distractions
September 15, 2024 Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
Ladue Chapel Presbyterian Church
Matthew 6:24-34
“Growing in Faith: Moving Past Distractions”
Douglas T. King
I was laying flat on my back. There was an ominous and rapid thumping in my ears, no, not just my ears, my entire body could feel the thumping, thrumming, powerfully pulsing. It was my heart. It felt like it was going to shatter my ribcage and come flying out of my chest. Sweat was pouring down my cheeks. It felt like I had been sprinting for hours but I was not moving a muscle. I felt as if I had no control over my body. I just wanted to completely shut down. I was in the midst of an anxiety tsunami.
What was actually occurring was that I was having a chemical stress test. I was receiving Lexiscan through an IV which was causing my body to respond as if it were in a desperate race to escape some monstrous predator. The day before I had pulled my Achilles running across six lanes of traffic on Park Avenue. This foolhardy act made my scheduled normal treadmill stress test impossible. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. I do not think I have ever been so anxious before or after.
The Mayo Clinic estimates that since the pandemic there has been an estimated additional 76.2 million cases of anxiety disorders globally, an increase of 25.6%. Anxiety can be defined as excessive apprehensiveness about real or perceived threats and uncertain outcomes.
I do not pretend to have any deep understanding of anxiety disorders but I can speak to when I experience my own anxiety at times. I find myself putting too much importance on inconsequential things and losing sight of the bigger picture. I am easily and often distracted. I do not listen well to others because I can only hear my own inner monologue. I just want to shut the world out and close myself off from everything. The fetal position in a nice dark room somewhere sounds pretty attractive.
Today is the second sermon in our series on growth, a theme of our program year. I believe that the presence of anxiety is a major distraction and hindrance to growth, both for us as individuals and for us collectively as a church. When a person is in the grip of anxiety, they will often shut down from the world around them. They are so much in their own head they cannot hear anything beyond what they currently believe to be reality. When an institution or a church is experiencing anxiety it too can shut itself down to voices that speak to things beyond what they have known in the past. They can find themselves seeking comfort by hunkering down and trusting only in the familiar.
For people and churches to grow we must step beyond anxiety. Our scripture lesson from Matthew this morning brings word of Jesus responding to the presence of anxiety. We hear of birds and lilies and how they thrive under God’s care. Our anxiety over living is juxtaposed to the ways in which birds and lilies are present in the world. Of course, there is a vast gap of consciousness that separates humanity from birds and lilies. But birds and lilies do not question their identities. Birds do not mistake themselves for fish. Lilies do not think they might be palm trees. They know who they are and what sustains them.
We, humans, on the other hand, well, so much for the value of our higher consciousness. We define ourselves in all sorts of different ways and understand what sustains us in all sorts of ways. We often define ourselves by what we do for a living and what we have achieved by what we do for a living. And we think it is those achievements that are the source of our sustenance. Now this is not to ignore the reality that to keep a roof over our heads and food on our tables we need money. But when we do not comprehend our ultimate source of sustenance we are led down debilitating paths.
It is so easy to believe that our primary identity and primary source of sustenance is what we do for a living and the money it provides us. The unfortunate corollary to this is that there are no guarantees to our employment or our resources. A corporate downsizing or market crash can change a comfortable and sustainable lifestyle in the blink of an eye.
Our text from Matthew mentions money specifically but its truth is much broader than that. The world can be uncertain in all sorts of ways. And when our response to that uncertainty is solely found in what we are capable of doing, anxiety is always lurking at the door.
Birds and lilies do not stay up late worrying about the uncertainty of the future. They do not have the capacity to do so. They also know who they are. Sometimes we forget who we are, that we are mortal and limited. We forget we do not have the power to control all of the outcomes of this world. We confuse ourselves with God. And playing at being God is an extremely anxiety-producing proposition.
Obviously, I am not speaking of clinical anxiety disorders, but in the case of the anxieties that many of us experience, it is because we confuse our role with God’s role. Lilies know they are lilies. Birds know they are birds. Humans, too often believe they are God. We believe there is some way we can control all of the outcomes of the future and in that belief we tie ourselves up in knots.
The poet, Christian Wiman, writes, “How does one remember God, reach for God, realize God in the midst of one’s life if one is constantly being overwhelmed by that life?” Tolstoy defined the response to our anxiety condition like this, “There was no solution but the universal solution that life gives to all questions, even the most complex and insoluble. That answer is: one must live in the needs of the day—that is forget oneself.”
We are creatures not the creator. When we are reminded that the ultimate source of all our needs is the one who creates us we can lay down the burden of trying to control the world. When we find our ultimate identity as a beloved child of God we can take comfort in the reality that all of our ultimate outcomes are guaranteed. In receiving these gifts of freedom and comfort we can lay aside the spinning monologues of worry in our heads; we can loosen ourselves from the ways we close ourselves off in fetal positions of fear. And in doing so we can stretch ourselves out and be open to learning new things, to growing in our understanding of who God is and who we are.
As disciples of Jesus Christ we are called to ever be seeking to grow. And growth is not possible without both understanding where we are now and having a sure hope for what the future may hold. When we remember we are creatures not the creator we understand that the ultimate source of our sustenance and our outcomes is our God. When we turn away from our fruitless desire to control all things and turn toward our God we are like a lily turning itself toward the sun. We become less focused upon what we can produce and more focused upon what we can receive. We can only grow when we recognize we need something from that which is beyond ourselves.
I hope to never have another chemical stress test in my life. The level of loss of control was terrifying for me. But I do try to remind myself that it is an illusion that I am in ultimate control of anything. And when I engage in that illusion of control I open the door to obsessing over all of the outcomes and finding myself bound by anxiety.
When we remember that we are creations of God, and ultimately in God’s hands we can open ourselves to growing in whatever ways God may wish us to do so.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Ladue Chapel Presbyterian Church
Matthew 6:24-34
“Growing in Faith: Moving Past Distractions”
Douglas T. King
I was laying flat on my back. There was an ominous and rapid thumping in my ears, no, not just my ears, my entire body could feel the thumping, thrumming, powerfully pulsing. It was my heart. It felt like it was going to shatter my ribcage and come flying out of my chest. Sweat was pouring down my cheeks. It felt like I had been sprinting for hours but I was not moving a muscle. I felt as if I had no control over my body. I just wanted to completely shut down. I was in the midst of an anxiety tsunami.
What was actually occurring was that I was having a chemical stress test. I was receiving Lexiscan through an IV which was causing my body to respond as if it were in a desperate race to escape some monstrous predator. The day before I had pulled my Achilles running across six lanes of traffic on Park Avenue. This foolhardy act made my scheduled normal treadmill stress test impossible. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. I do not think I have ever been so anxious before or after.
The Mayo Clinic estimates that since the pandemic there has been an estimated additional 76.2 million cases of anxiety disorders globally, an increase of 25.6%. Anxiety can be defined as excessive apprehensiveness about real or perceived threats and uncertain outcomes.
I do not pretend to have any deep understanding of anxiety disorders but I can speak to when I experience my own anxiety at times. I find myself putting too much importance on inconsequential things and losing sight of the bigger picture. I am easily and often distracted. I do not listen well to others because I can only hear my own inner monologue. I just want to shut the world out and close myself off from everything. The fetal position in a nice dark room somewhere sounds pretty attractive.
Today is the second sermon in our series on growth, a theme of our program year. I believe that the presence of anxiety is a major distraction and hindrance to growth, both for us as individuals and for us collectively as a church. When a person is in the grip of anxiety, they will often shut down from the world around them. They are so much in their own head they cannot hear anything beyond what they currently believe to be reality. When an institution or a church is experiencing anxiety it too can shut itself down to voices that speak to things beyond what they have known in the past. They can find themselves seeking comfort by hunkering down and trusting only in the familiar.
For people and churches to grow we must step beyond anxiety. Our scripture lesson from Matthew this morning brings word of Jesus responding to the presence of anxiety. We hear of birds and lilies and how they thrive under God’s care. Our anxiety over living is juxtaposed to the ways in which birds and lilies are present in the world. Of course, there is a vast gap of consciousness that separates humanity from birds and lilies. But birds and lilies do not question their identities. Birds do not mistake themselves for fish. Lilies do not think they might be palm trees. They know who they are and what sustains them.
We, humans, on the other hand, well, so much for the value of our higher consciousness. We define ourselves in all sorts of different ways and understand what sustains us in all sorts of ways. We often define ourselves by what we do for a living and what we have achieved by what we do for a living. And we think it is those achievements that are the source of our sustenance. Now this is not to ignore the reality that to keep a roof over our heads and food on our tables we need money. But when we do not comprehend our ultimate source of sustenance we are led down debilitating paths.
It is so easy to believe that our primary identity and primary source of sustenance is what we do for a living and the money it provides us. The unfortunate corollary to this is that there are no guarantees to our employment or our resources. A corporate downsizing or market crash can change a comfortable and sustainable lifestyle in the blink of an eye.
Our text from Matthew mentions money specifically but its truth is much broader than that. The world can be uncertain in all sorts of ways. And when our response to that uncertainty is solely found in what we are capable of doing, anxiety is always lurking at the door.
Birds and lilies do not stay up late worrying about the uncertainty of the future. They do not have the capacity to do so. They also know who they are. Sometimes we forget who we are, that we are mortal and limited. We forget we do not have the power to control all of the outcomes of this world. We confuse ourselves with God. And playing at being God is an extremely anxiety-producing proposition.
Obviously, I am not speaking of clinical anxiety disorders, but in the case of the anxieties that many of us experience, it is because we confuse our role with God’s role. Lilies know they are lilies. Birds know they are birds. Humans, too often believe they are God. We believe there is some way we can control all of the outcomes of the future and in that belief we tie ourselves up in knots.
The poet, Christian Wiman, writes, “How does one remember God, reach for God, realize God in the midst of one’s life if one is constantly being overwhelmed by that life?” Tolstoy defined the response to our anxiety condition like this, “There was no solution but the universal solution that life gives to all questions, even the most complex and insoluble. That answer is: one must live in the needs of the day—that is forget oneself.”
We are creatures not the creator. When we are reminded that the ultimate source of all our needs is the one who creates us we can lay down the burden of trying to control the world. When we find our ultimate identity as a beloved child of God we can take comfort in the reality that all of our ultimate outcomes are guaranteed. In receiving these gifts of freedom and comfort we can lay aside the spinning monologues of worry in our heads; we can loosen ourselves from the ways we close ourselves off in fetal positions of fear. And in doing so we can stretch ourselves out and be open to learning new things, to growing in our understanding of who God is and who we are.
As disciples of Jesus Christ we are called to ever be seeking to grow. And growth is not possible without both understanding where we are now and having a sure hope for what the future may hold. When we remember we are creatures not the creator we understand that the ultimate source of our sustenance and our outcomes is our God. When we turn away from our fruitless desire to control all things and turn toward our God we are like a lily turning itself toward the sun. We become less focused upon what we can produce and more focused upon what we can receive. We can only grow when we recognize we need something from that which is beyond ourselves.
I hope to never have another chemical stress test in my life. The level of loss of control was terrifying for me. But I do try to remind myself that it is an illusion that I am in ultimate control of anything. And when I engage in that illusion of control I open the door to obsessing over all of the outcomes and finding myself bound by anxiety.
When we remember that we are creations of God, and ultimately in God’s hands we can open ourselves to growing in whatever ways God may wish us to do so.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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