Be Anxious for Nothing (except long plane flights)

I had a come-to-Jesus moment a couple of weeks ago at church.  One of our pastors was talking about fear as it relates to the unknown.  For him that anxiety seemed to settle in two main areas: Church planting and plane flights (Needless to say, he is the pastor of our church plant in Virginia beach.  God’s sense of humor is frightening at times).  He went on to detail a flight in which his plane needed to be de-iced before take off.  And the de-icing spray was FREEZING ON THE WINDOWS.  This couldn’t be good.  He described the feeling of panic closing in on him because of being out of control.  All the while, I felt like standing up and giving him a slow clap and a “Amen Brother” for his honesty.  Because that description is so me in a nutshell.

David keeps this on our computer's desktop to mock me.

This, obviously, isn’t something I’m proud of.  In fact, the opposite is true.  It is pretty humiliating to admit that my control freak tendencies drive me to worry much more than the average, well-adjusted human being.  Those tendencies may have led my husband to ban me from Web-MD for life, after I *merely suggested* I might have symptoms consistent with either Ebola or ribcage cancer.  It’s exhausting, really, to be actively concerned and also in charge of so much (she says sarcastically).  To have my anxiety directly fuel all good actions forward (Jesus is now shaking his head).  I think God published those worry verses in Matthew 6:27, 31, 32b-34 specifically for me:

"Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?  Of course not...So don’t worry about having enough food or drink or clothing….Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs, and He will give you all you need from day to day if you live for him and make the Kingdom of God your primary concern.  So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries.  Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

Yeah, that passage should come pre-highlighted in every Bible I buy.  But scriptural truth notwithstanding, plane flights remain my nemesis.  Which is why I think I connected so strongly to our pastor’s message the other day.  David and I’s first flight together was to Colorado for our honeymoon (Awwwww).  A cute idea until David realized that I would squeeze the life out of his arm boa constrictor style during take off, mild turbulence, landing, and pretty much the duration of the flight.  So being the smart guy he is, he bought me a stuffed E.T. to strangle during future flights.  And then we spawned our very own living, breathing tag along for plane travel, which actually helped a lot.  Since birth, Elijah has been a professional jet setter, traveling by plane at least once a year.  He takes everything in stride and now knows (without prompting) to grab my hand during take offs and landings (this was dear until he recently started mentioning it to other people using this really superior tone.  His mother is *such* a burden to him).  Even though you’re more likely to die from a well-placed kick to the face by a donkey than from a plane crash, the comfort of that little hand on mine trumps the certainty of all the statistics in the world.  A routine helps.  Blasting worship music through my earbuds helps.  Identifying the closest exit row helps.  It isn’t the perfect strategy, but it gets me there.

Elijah, getting much TOO comfortable with the plane.

So knowing that our extended family would be meeting in California for vacation this year was both exciting and terrifying.  And you can easily conclude that this summer’s news didn’t bode well for my traveling sanity.  As in: There have been far too many planes BLOWN UP BY MISSILES and LOST FOREVER IN THE OCEAN for my liking.  Not a great start to the trip.  Then Southwest’s open seating arrangements backfired on this family of 3, leaving us split apart on the plane.  Boo, hiss!!  I ended up sharing my row with Steve Jobs (He really looked like him- turtleneck, white sneakers, and all) and his 4 year old son.  My job kinda requires me to be good with kids, so I felt okay about this.  That was until I realized that “Steve” had neglected to pack anything non-electronic to occupy his son.  So until the pilot gave the green light for the use of laptops, I watched this man struggle to entertain the child.  Using whatever means necessary.  Which led to them reading aloud the “In Case of Emergency” manual shoved in the back of each seat pocket.  Oh my sweet Jesus.  I’m already on high alert as soon as I step foot on a plane.  Add in the fact that this was a 5 hour flight AND I couldn’t sit with my family, and that made me as jumpy as a chihuahua snorting espresso beans.  It was not a good time for Steve Jobs to be explaining water landings to his inquisitive counterpart.  Then the 4 year old got even more question-y:

Kid: But Dad, why couldn’t the plane just land on top of the water?

Steve: Honey, planes don’t float.

Me: (Taking lamaze breaths with my head in between my legs.)

After 20 minutes of deep meditation and prayer, we reached cruising altitude.  I know the pilots appreciated my “help” (Read: mental energy exertion) in attaining this goal.  So Dad FINALLY booted up the old laptop.  And then went on to order 4 consecutive Bloody Marys, while watching (this is real) “Epic Cat Videos” on the internet with his boy.  At that point, I was all, “Do whatever it takes, Steve (except if you try to read from that manual again, I will make you eat your computer cords)!”  Then we settled into a companionable silence (or drunken stupor--depending on which of us you were talking about) until touch down.

There comes a moment in a flight, usually after landing (or after sneaking a drink of my neighbor’s Bloody Mary), where I just think the word “Ethiopia.”  Which brings me back to God’s frightening sense of humor...because I’m freaking flying to Africa someday (David will probably have to knock me out with a tack hammer first, but that’s beside the point).  Willingly, excitedly F.L.Y.I.N.G. to another continent.  Seriously people, if that doesn’t make you believe in Jesus’ ability to change a person’s heart, I don’t know what will.

My friend Beckie, a fellow adoptive mom, put it something like this, “To adopt you MUST be able to prove (in a ridiculous amount of ways) your marital, emotional, financial, and mental stability to a social worker, our government, and the country of your future child.  But this process is so rigorous and consuming, it drives the even most ‘stable’ of us to the brink.”  Amen.  It is hard to be at the mercy of a merciless process.  To be out of control.  I expressed all this to my Meghan awhile ago.  She responded, “Here’s the funny thing.  You’ve told me that you want to trust God more.  And you want to be comfortable with His control, not your attempts at controlling situations.  Your adoption is basically forcing you to do both those things.”  Well blah, I need some less-wise friends ;).

As Anne Lamott says in her books, “God loves you just the way you are, but He loves you too much to let you stay like this.”  I struggle with change.  I hate not being the boss.  I fear the unknown.  Jesus wasn’t blind to all those facts when he gave David and I a burden for Africa.  He wasn’t stacking the deck against us, He was making room for growth.  HE best knows what circumstances will fuel our faith forward, and not just leave me resting stagnant and alone to weave my web of worry and control.  Regarding this, I recently stumbled upon a verse in Acts (Acts 9:31b) about the faith of the early church, “The believers were walking in the fear of the Lord and in the comfort of the Holy Spirit.”

Wait, what?  “Fear of the Lord?”  Yep, that’s what it says.  But this type of fear is the polar opposite of what I channel all my mental energy and anxiety into doing.  This is reverence or awe, respect for the greatness of the One eliciting the response.  Having lately endured my dramatic flight story, I had a fresh perspective of fear upon reading this verse.  And I mean earthly, human fear.  It is exhausting, stifling, terrifying.  It makes you the weakest version of yourself.  However, this sacred fear, this reverential awe, seems to evoke a much different response.  Earlier in the same Acts verse, it says not only were the early believers walking in the fear of the Lord and basking in the comfort of the Holy Spirit, but they were also GROWING in strength.  This leaves me to suppose that IF we can put fear in its rightful place, we won’t be left distressed and trembling.  We will be strengthened, comforted, bold.  I want the fear that comes not from my loss of control, but from having confidence in the One who truly has control.  As I give up the desire to orchestrate all of life’s details, perhaps I can rest in the comfort of my Savior’s strength.

I don’t think this is a magic formula for an easy life.  God never promised us that.  But if we can put our human fears into perspective, I hope they would pale when compared to the glory of God.  Or at least, that is the goal towards which I haphazardly strive.  It is too tiring to live life the other way, weighed down by the many burdens of this existence.  Look around at the world-worn, weary faces surrounding you and claim it with me: There HAS to be a better way!  Because Jesus didn’t come to earth so that we could drag our feet the whole way to heaven.  No, He wants us to dance.

“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in Me.  Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows.  But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”--John 16:33