Scripture: Matthew 6:25-34
Hebrews 4 says the word of God is “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword… discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”[1] That two-edged sword cut me to the heart earlier this year. I was having a quiet time, and I happened to be reading Luke chapter 9—which includes these familiar words:
“For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words, of him will the Son of Man be ashamed when he comes in his glory…”
I’m embarrassed to confess this, but for most of my Christian life I read these words as applying mostly to the first generation of disciples—those who faced persecution, suffering, even martyrdom. And they still apply to believers today who face those things. Like someone is asking you at gunpoint if you believe in Jesus. Will you tell the truth, or will you buckle under the pressure?
So Jesus isn’t really talking to me…
But not so fast, Brent… Maybe you are ashamed of Jesus’ words sometimes… at least some of them.
After all, four times in tonight’s passage from Matthew chapter 6, Jesus tells us not to be anxious.
Yet I easily and often feel anxious. Why? Do I not believe Jesus? Am I ashamed of his words when it comes to not being anxious? Do I secretly believe Jesus is being unrealistic? Naive? Out of touch with “real life in the 21st century”?
Because if not, why do I ignore these words so easily? Why do I think they don’t apply to my particular situation?
This brings me to another scripture that has recently convicted me—Jesus’ interaction with Peter in Luke 5. Peter and his fellow fishermen had worked all night and caught nothing. Jesus finishes preaching from Peter’s boat and then says, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”
Peter replies, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing!”[2]
Notice Peter begins by calling Jesus “Master,” but every word he speaks after that contradicts calling Jesus as “Master.” Between the lines Peter is thinking, “Jesus, with all due respect, you know preaching; I know fishing. I didn’t catch fish at the best time of night. I’m certainly not catching any now in broad daylight.” It’s a polite way of saying, “You’re wrong. Stay in your lane. Stick to preaching.”
But if Jesus is truly Peter’s Master, then the only faithful response is: “Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.” If Peter really believed Jesus was Master, he would assume Jesus knew something he didn’t. He would assume Jesus could even intervene miraculously if necessary.
And what about us?
We call Jesus our Master too… but when it comes to his words about not worrying, are we letting Jesus master us? Because if he’s our Master, then why does anxiety have such an easy time mastering our hearts?
On a recent Sunday afternoon, I was taking a nap—as most pastors do after church. I woke up to a faint squeaking sound. I opened the bedroom door, and our cat, named Cash, was waiting for me. He led me down the hall to the spare bedroom. Cash walked straight to the closet and looked at me like, “Open it.”
Inside was Wally, our other cat—Cash’s brother and litter-mate. It appears that Wally had been in there almost 24 hours. But here’s the thing: Wally hadn’t been crying very long. If he had panicked early on, we would have heard him.
So what was Wally doing in there all that time? Was he panicking? Was he thinking, “What if my humans don’t find me? What if I starve? What if I die of thirst?”
No. Wally wasn’t thinking about those worst-case scenarios.
More likely he saw a box of sweaters and thought, “Perfect for shedding my fur!” He saw a hard plastic case and thought, “Perfect for sharpening my claws!” He saw an Amazon box and thought, “Perfect for a nap!”
Wally did what Wally always does—he trusted that his humans would take care of him. And when he was ready to come out, he simply meowed. Because he’s learned from experience that his needs will be met.
Years ago we had a Christian veterinarian named Dr. Reese. He definitely treated his veterinary practice as a ministry. Whenever we described some quirk in our pets’ behavior, Dr. Reese would begin by saying, “Your cat is perfect… Your dog is perfect… They’re doing exactly what God created them to do.” I’ve never forgotten that. Unlike us, animals don’t rebel against God’s design for their lives. They simply receive what God gives them. They trust instinctively.
There’s a poem you probably know:
Said the Robin to the Sparrow,
“I should really like to know
Why these anxious human beings
Rush about and worry so!”
Said the Sparrow to the Robin,
“Friend, I think that it must be
That they have no heavenly Father
Such as cares for you and me!”
Jesus surely had this idea in mind when he said in verse 26:
“Look at the birds of the air… your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”
And later in Matthew 10:
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”[3]
Sparrows were nearly worthless birds in the ancient world. Two for a penny. Yet the Father cares for each one. Not a single one dies unnoticed.
But Jesus goes even further: not only does the Father notice sparrows falling—he notices hairs on our heads falling out. He knows each one.
If God cares that much about birds and hair, how much more does he care for us?
Jesus is saying, “If the Father deeply cares for the smallest parts of creation, what makes you think he will overlook you?”
So why do we worry about food… or anything else?
And surely we won’t be tempted to say, “God doesn’t provide food. I provide it. I work hard for it, after all.” Because Jesus would surely say, “You don’t work harder than birds? They work tirelessly around the clock—and yet your Father feeds them.”
This does not diminish the importance of work. Birds work hard. They build nests, gather food, care for their young. But Jesus insists that even while they work, God is the one who’s ultimately feeding them.
In the same way, our work matters. But our work is sustained and made fruitful only by God.
He gave us life, minds, bodies, talents, opportunities, families, teachers, coaches, land, abundant natural resources, a nation of laws, protection—he gives us every breath and every heartbeat. We can do nothing apart from him.
That’s why Paul asks, in 1 Corinthians 4:7, “What do you have that you did not receive?”[4]
Jesus then turns from birds to lilies—who “neither toil nor spin,” yet are clothed more beautifully than Solomon. Birds teach us not to fear while working. Lilies teach us not to fear while resting.
Because you see, in terms of Sabbath rest: whether we are laboring or ceasing from labor, we still trust the Father to provide.
In the Old Testament, the Sabbath was unearned rest. It was not a “vacation” for people who had managed to meet all their deadlines from the previous week and were now “finished” with their work. No… Israel rested every seventh day whether they “finished” their work or not. Sabbath was a weekly act of trust: a way of learning, over and over again, that God can run the universe without us.
So when Jesus says, “Do not be anxious,” he is not inviting us into laziness nor into frantic activity. He is inviting us into trust—a life in which every moment is shaped by confidence in the Father’s care.
Which brings me to Carol Burnett. I grew up watching and loving The Carol Burnett Show… who is alive and well, by the way, at the age of 92.
Earlier this year I listened to a new interview she gave on a podcast. She talked about being a child, growing up in Hollywood in the 1940s. Not a Hollywood star, by the way. Literally she grew up poor, living with her grandmother, in Hollywood. And she and her grandmother went to a lot of movies! They were cheap back then. She said the movies of that era weren’t cynical. She said, “the good guys won… the bad guys lost… everything turned out all right.”
And she said she learned something from watching those movies, “I had this feeling that everything would turn out all right. And it did.”
But that conviction, she said, shaped her whole life. She took risks. She stepped out in faith. She was bold. She talked to powerful people. She didn’t let fear stop her. And as a result, in 1967, she became the first woman to star in her own prime-time variety show!
“I had this feeling that everything would turn out all right. And it did.”
Imagine if Christians lived with that same conviction.
Imagine the courage we would have.
Imagine the risks we would take.
Imagine the bold steps of faith we would embrace.
But here’s the difference: Carol Burnett got that conviction, she said, from the movies. We get ours from the risen Lord.
Our hope is not nostalgia. It’s resurrection.
Our confidence is not optimism. It’s a Person.
Our assurance is not that “things tend to work out,” but that God works all things together for our good.
And that should lead us naturally to Thanksgiving.
If everything we have is from God…
If every breath and every heartbeat is a gift…
If every need is known before we ask…
If the Father feeds birds and clothes lilies and calls us his beloved children…
Then gratitude becomes the air we breathe.
By contrast… Worry says, “It’s up to me.”
Thanksgiving says, “It’s all from him.”
Worry looks at tomorrow.
Thanksgiving remembers yesterday—every answered prayer, every provision, every act of mercy and grace.
[Speaking of tomorrow, look at verse 34… God doesn’t give you hypothetical grace… He doesn’t promise that you’ll feel “at ease” about something that hasn’t happened yet…]
On this Thanksgiving, Jesus is inviting us to trade anxiety for gratitude… fear for faith… restlessness for trust. He is inviting us to open our eyes and see our Father’s care all around us—not only in big miracles but in seemingly small ones: the daily bread, the breath in our lungs, the people who love us… Not to mention the grace that saves us.
So maybe tonight Jesus is inviting us to pray a simple prayer—one that resists anxiety and embraces trust:
“Father, I thank you. I trust you. Because in your hands, everything really will turn out all right.”
Amen.
[1] Hebrews 4:12 ESV
[2] See Luke 5:4-5.
[3] Matthew 10:29-31 ESV
[4] 1 Corinthians 4:7