The Cure for Stress
“I woke up at 2 in the morning worrying about all this,” one woman said to another. The creases on her forehead deepened as she rubbed them with her fingertips and took a sip of coffee.
“Would you stop?” the other replied. “You shouldn’t be losing sleep over this.”
“You know me. I’m a worrier. I can’t help it.”
“Well, the only way to stop worrying is to trust someone else. So trust me. I’ve got this.”
The woman said it so casually, as if her words weren’t divine. But as I sat there listening, every pore in my body soaked up her message.
Only then did I realize I’d heard it before. Several times over, in fact.
“God,” I’d plead in the wee hours of morning. And throughout the day. And right before bed. And then again in the wee hours of morning. “What am I going to do about [insert stress of the moment here]?”
In response, He’d try to comfort me with scripture:
“Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:25-27, 34)
I wish I could say it kicked me in the pants and opened my eyes. But alas, my thick-bullheadedness missed the message.
“But Gooooooddddd,” I’d whine. “What am I going to do about [insert stress of the moment here]???”
“Would you stop? You shouldn’t be losing rest over this.”
“You know me, God. I’m a classified Type-A worrier. You created me this way. I can’t help it.”
Then God would look at me all exasperated-like—kind of the way this woman now looked at her friend—and break it down for me like I was a five-year-old. “The only way to stop worrying is to trust someone else. So trust me. I’ve got this.”
I looked at the woman whose words echoed those of my God, and they finally sank in.
Stress is not an all-you-can-eat buffet. Take something off your plate.
Then give it to God and let Him dine with you.