When Jesus is all, "Don't Worry."

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Therefore, I say to you, don’t worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. There is more to life than food and more to the body than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither plant nor harvest, they have no silo or barn, yet God feeds them. You are worth so much more than birds! Who among you by worrying can add a single moment to your life? If you can’t do such a small thing, why worry about the rest? Notice how the lilies grow. They don’t wear themselves out with work, and they don’t spin cloth. But I say to you that even Solomon in all his splendor wasn’t dressed like one of these. If God dresses grass in the field so beautifully, even though it’s alive today and tomorrow it’s thrown into the furnace, how much more will God do for you, you people of weak faith! Don’t chase after what you will eat and what you will drink. Stop worrying. All the nations of the world long for these things. Your Creator knows that you need them. Instead, desire God’s realm and these things will be given to you as well. (Luke 12:22-31)

I have a confession to make. I really don’t like this “consider the lilies” business. I routinely groan when I see it is going to be read. I have stated probably too loudly, “I hate that passage.” And yet—I have been assigned to preach on it twice over the past few years. The first as a guest chapel preacher when working at a small liberal arts college. The second time was this past fall in my Intro to Preaching course. It doesn’t help that lilies are my favorite flowers. This means, inevitably, that Luke’s account continues to creep up like a pesky vine that just won’t chill the heck out.

You may be thinking, “Why does this bother you so much? You’re not a raven who is being told they are less important than a human. I’d get it if they were pissed, but you seem a little unnecessarily salty, to be honest.”

Well. I am a little salty. Often the translations of this passage center on the idea of not being “anxious.” I, like millions of others, have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Telling me not to be anxious is about as helpful as suggesting that the precious lilies stop sucking up sunlight. Anxiety, while manageable through behavior and medication, is a reality of my existence. So, when Luke’s Jesus tells everyone not to be anxious, I can’t help but become defensive. I mean, I’ve done some work. I know that anxiety isn’t inherently bad. I am aware that having feelings of anxiety is a natural and helpful response when the human body encounters the unknown or danger. Paralyzing anxiety, not so much, but Jesus doesn’t take the time to qualify that here. It’s straight up worrying of all kinds.

And worrying about clothes and food! If there’s anything to worry about, it seems like these might be the things. We’re not talking about luxuries. Clothes are essential for protecting human bodies from the elements. Food is essential for keeping us running. And unlike the picturesque Van Gogh landscape Jesus portrays, where flowers bloom and birds fly happily overhead; the things necessary to sustain life are not guaranteed to any creature in this world. Frankly, the birds facing extinction and wilting flowers don’t seem all that provided for. Add to that poverty and a declining middle class that limit access to food for people around the world (yes, even in our supposed “first world” nation), and it seems like we should be worried about food. We should be worried about clothes. We should be worried about taking care of the needs of other people. I feel like that’s pretty on brand for this whole biblical message thing…

So, yeah. I’m a little salty at what seems like a disconnected Jesus.

___

This morning I walked into a worship service and tried to contain my dual desire to groan and roll my eyes. We were about to read Luke’s raven-filled homage to eradicating anxiety.

Great.

We moved through the opening words and ended up at the reading. I prepared myself to be miffed once more, however, there was something about the phrasing of the last sentence of this particular translation[i] that struck me in a new light.

Instead desire God’s realm and these things will be given to you as well.

Damn.

I had to sit for a moment and work out why this was so stirring for me. Perhaps it was sitting in a room with people committed to addressing the concerns above. Perhaps it was the striking visual of massive rain clouds out the window. Maybe it’s this whole Holy Spirit thing. Likely, it’s the fact that I ran out of shows to binge and have begun watching Lucifer. (The irony is palpable.)

If you’re a fan of the show, you know that a central trope is when the main character asks, “What is it you desire?” The show centers in on wants and guilty pleasures and, often, when we think of desire we go to that place as well. Desire has become synonymous with illicit sexuality to the point that Dolce and Gabbana have a perfume that bears its name. But desire when it comes to God’s realm isn’t about this sort of unnameable want. It’s not just claiming you want it in your heart or in front of others. It isn’t even about sitting at home and praying for Christ to return. (Though, I’m all for prayer and honestly it would be really nice for some apocalyptic restructuring of oppressive systems right about now.) Desiring God’s realm isn’t passive.

Desiring God’s realm looks like the person who shows up at a cash bail rally to free someone who is unjustly being held in prison. Desiring God’s realm looks like a group of people riding their bikes through an encampment of displaced people to deliver food. Desiring God’s realm is supporting access to any needs a person may have because of their health. It’s coat drives, building sustainable housing, showing up for a neighbor, offering space for those impacted by trauma to tell their stories and heal. And if we all embraced that active way of living into a desire for God’s way of being then—crap. These things will be given as well. Not because we wanted it more than someone else or because we are better followers of Christ, but because we communally commit to bettering one another.

I will likely never be okay with being told not to be anxious or not to worry. There’s a stigma around anxiety disorders that manifests in this phrasing and I’m not willing to embrace it. But, like a very good therapist once told me, we don’t need to worry when there’s something we can actively do about it. Or as Nike so aptly puts it, “Just do it.” It’s perfectly valid to worry about clothing and food while people continue to sit back and avoid doing the work of desiring God’s realm, but if we truly desire the world God intends through our lives and communities then Jesus is on to something in this passage.

We don’t have to worry because there’s something we can do about it.
All we have to do is show the heck up.

[i] I don’t know what this translation is. Pro-tip for worship leaders: always include in the bulletin what you’re using. It might be the Inclusive Language Bible? If you know, please let me know.