Anxious for Nothing: Finding Calm in a Chaotic World

by Max Lucado

Anxiety is a meteor shower of what-ifs.

Anxiety and fear are cousins but not twins. Fear sees a threat. Anxiety imagines one.

The presence of anxiety is unavoidable, but the prison of anxiety is optional.

Jesus gave this word: “Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with . . . the anxieties of life” (Luke 21:34 NIV).

Is your heart weighed down with worry? Look for these signals: • Are you laughing less than you once did? • Do you see problems in every promise? • Would those who know you best describe you as increasingly negative and critical? • Do you assume that something bad is going to happen? • Do you dilute and downplay good news with doses of your version of reality? • Many days would you rather stay in bed than get up? • Do you magnify the negative and dismiss the positive? • Given the chance, would you avoid any interaction with humanity for the rest of your life?

Philippians 4:4–8: Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentleness be known to all men. The Lord is at hand. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.

Envision an old man as he gazes out the window of a Roman prison. Paul is about sixty years old, thirty years a Christian, and there is scarcely a seaport on the Mediterranean he doesn’t know. See how stooped he is? All angles and curves. Blame his bent back on the miles traveled and the beatings endured. He received thirty-nine lashes on five different occasions. He was beaten with rods on three. Scars spiderweb across his skin like bulging veins. He was once left for dead. He has been imprisoned, deserted by friends and coworkers, and has endured shipwrecks, storms, and starvation. He’s probably half-blind, squinting just to read (Gal. 4:15). What’s more, he is awaiting trial before the Roman emperor. Nero has learned to curry the favor of the Roman citizens by killing believers, of which Paul is the best known. As if the oppression from the empire weren’t enough, Paul also bears the weight of newborn churches. The members are bickering. False preachers are preaching out of pride and envy (Phil. 1:15–17). So much for the easy life of an apostle. His future is as gloomy as his jail cell. Yet to read his words, you’d think he’d just arrived at a Jamaican beach hotel. His letter to the Philippians bears not one word of fear or complaint. Not one! He never shakes a fist at God; instead, he lifts his thanks to God and calls on his readers to do the same. “Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!” (Phil. 4:4). Paul’s prescription for anxiety begins with a call to...

This verse is a call, not to a feeling, but to a decision and a deeply rooted confidence that God exists, that he is in control, and that he is good.

Belief always precedes behavior. For this reason the apostle Paul in each of his epistles addressed convictions before he addressed actions. To change the way a person responds to life, change what a person believes about life. The most important thing about you is your belief system.

In the treatment of anxiety, a proper understanding of sovereignty is huge. Anxiety is often the consequence of perceived chaos. If we sense we are victims of unseen, turbulent, random forces, we are troubled.

The formula is simple: Perceived control creates calm. Lack of control gives birth to fear.

That’s why the most stressed-out people are control freaks. They fail at the quest they most pursue. The more they try to control the world, the more they realize they cannot. Life becomes a cycle of anxiety, failure; anxiety, failure; anxiety, failure. We can’t take control, because control is not ours to take.

God calmed the fears of Isaiah, not by removing the problem, but by revealing his divine power and presence.

Your anxiety decreases as your understanding of your father increases.

Are you troubled, restless, sleepless? Then rejoice in the Lord’s sovereignty. I dare you—I double-dog dare you—to expose your worries to an hour of worship. Your concerns will melt like ice on a July sidewalk.

There is a reason the windshield is bigger than the rearview mirror.

We can wear our hurt or wear our hope. We can outfit ourselves in our misfortune, or we can clothe ourselves in God’s providence. We can cave in to the pandemonium of life, or we can lean into the perfect plan of God. And we can believe this promise: “In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28 NIV).

“Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything” (Phil. 4:5–6 NIV).

Do not assume God is watching from a distance. Avoid the quicksand that bears the marker “God has left you!” Do not indulge this lie. If you do, your problem will be amplified by a sense of loneliness. It’s one thing to face a challenge, but to face it all alone? Isolation creates a downward cycle of fret. Choose instead to be the person who clutches the presence of God with both hands. “The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?” (Ps. 118:6 NIV).

1. A specific prayer is a serious prayer. If I say to you, “Do you mind if I come by your house sometime?” you may not take me seriously. But suppose I say, “Can I come over this Friday night? I have a problem at work, and I really need your advice. I can be there at seven, and I promise I will leave by eight.” Then you know my petition is sincere. When we offer specific requests, God knows the same.

2. Specific prayer is an opportunity for us to see God at work. When we see him respond in specific ways to specific requests, our faith grows.

Specific prayer creates a lighter load. Many of our anxieties are threatening because they are ill defined and vague. If we can distill the challenge into a phrase, we bring it down to size. It is one thing to pray, Lord, please bless my meeting tomorrow. It is another thing to pray, Lord, I have a conference with my supervisor at 2:00 p.m. tomorrow. She intimidates me. Would you please grant me a spirit of peace so I can sleep well tonight? Grant me wisdom so I can enter the meeting prepared. And would you soften her heart toward me and give her a generous spirit? Help us have a gracious conversation in which both of us benefit and your name is honored. There. You have reduced the problem into a prayer-sized challenge.

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:6–7).

The anxious heart says, “Lord, if only I had this, that, or the other, I’d be okay.” The grateful heart says, “Oh, look! You’ve already given me this, that, and the other. Thank you, God.”

Look at your blessings. Do you see any friends? Family? Do you see any grace from God? The love of God? Do you see any gifts? Abilities or talents? Skills? As you look at your blessings, take note of what happens. Anxiety grabs his bags and slips out the back door. Worry refuses to share the heart with gratitude. One heartfelt thank-you will suck the oxygen out of worry’s world. So say it often. Focus more on what you do have and less on what you don’t. The apostle Paul modeled this outlook.

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Phil. 4:11–13 NIV)

Contingent contentment turns us into wounded, worried people.

Here is an interesting detail about his letter to the Philippians. Within its 104 verses Paul mentioned Jesus forty times. At an average of every 2.5 verses, Paul was talking about Christ. “To me the only important thing about living is Christ, and dying would be profit for me” (Phil. 1:21 NCV).

Can death take our joy? No, Jesus is greater than death. Can failure take our joy? No, Jesus is greater than our sin. Can betrayal take our joy? No, Jesus will never leave us. Can sickness take our joy? No, God has promised, whether on this side of the grave or the other, to heal us. Can disappointment take our joy? No, because even though our plans may not work out, we know God’s plan will.

what you have in Christ is greater than anything you don’t have in life.

Anchor your heart to the character of God. Your boat will rock. Moods will come and go. Situations will fluctuate. But will you be left adrift on the Atlantic of despair? No, for you have found a contentment that endures the storm.

No more “if only.” It is the petri dish in which anxiety thrives. Replace your “if only” with “already.” Look what you already have. Treat each anxious thought with a grateful one, and prepare yourself for a new day of joy.

“The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:7).

Most of us don’t have a clear message like Paul’s. But we do have the assurance that we will not live one day less than we are supposed to live. If God has work for you to do, he will keep you alive to do it. “All the days planned for me were written in your book before I was one day old” (Ps. 139:16 NCV).

No life is too short or too long. You will live your prescribed number of days. You might change the quality of your days but not the quantity.

You can lose it all, only to discover that you haven’t. God has been there all along.

Do you want to be happy tomorrow? Then sow seeds of happiness today. (Count blessings. Memorize Bible verses. Pray. Sing hymns. Spend time with encouraging people.) Do you want to guarantee tomorrow’s misery? Then wallow in a mental mud pit of self-pity or guilt or anxiety today. (Assume the worst. Beat yourself up. Rehearse your regrets. Complain to complainers.) Thoughts have consequences.

No problem is unsolvable. No life is irredeemable. No one’s fate is sealed. No one is unloved or unlovable.

it was during my greatest distress when I felt the Lord’s presence poured upon me. And it was in those heartbreaking moments I learned to trust this God who provided unimaginable strength during unimaginable pain.”

Guard your thoughts and trust your Father.

We bear fruit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness” (Gal. 5:22 NASB). We meditate on what is “true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable . . . excellent and worthy of praise” (Phil. 4:8 NLT). Our gentleness is evident to all. We bask in the “peace of God, which transcends all understanding” (Phil. 4:7 NIV).

The Father tends. Jesus nourishes. We receive, and grapes appear. Passersby, stunned at the overflowing baskets of love, grace, and peace, can’t help but ask, “Who runs this vineyard?” And God is honored. For this reason fruit bearing matters to God.

Our assignment is not fruitfulness but faithfulness. The secret to fruit bearing and anxiety-free living is less about doing and more about abiding.

He is not a roadside park or hotel room. He is our permanent mailing address. Christ is our home. He is our place of refuge and security. We are comfortable in his presence, free to be our authentic selves. We know our way around in him. We know his heart and his ways.

When a father leads his four-year-old son down a crowded street, he takes him by the hand and says, “Hold on to me.” He doesn’t say, “Memorize the map” or “Take your chances dodging the traffic” or “Let’s see if you can find your way home.” The good father gives the child one responsibility: “Hold on to my hand.” God does the same with us. Don’t load yourself down with lists. Don’t enhance your anxiety with the fear of not fulfilling them. Your goal is not to know every detail of the future. Your goal is to hold the hand of the One who does and never, ever let go.

“Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth” (Col. 3:2).

A friend recently described to me her daily ninety-minute commute. “Ninety minutes!” I commiserated. “Don’t feel sorry for me.” She smiled. “I use the trip to think about God.” She went on to describe how she fills the hour and a half with worship and sermons. She listens to entire books of the Bible. She recites prayers. By the time she reaches her place of employment, she is ready for the day. “I turn my commute into my chapel.”

Christians battle anxiety. Jesus battled anxiety, for heaven’s sake! In the Garden of Gethsemane he prayed three times that he wouldn’t have to drink of the cup (Matt. 26:36–44). His heart pumped with such ferocity that capillaries broke and rivulets of crimson streaked down his face (Luke 22:44). He was anxious. But he didn’t stay anxious. He entrusted his fears to his heavenly Father and completed his earthly mission with faith. He will help us do likewise. There is a pathway out of the valley of fret. God used the pen of Paul to sketch the map.

Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentleness be known to all men. The Lord is at hand. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things. (Phil. 4:4–8)

To be anxious, then, is to divide the mind.1 Worry takes a meat cleaver to our thoughts, energy, and focus. Anxiety chops up our attention. It sends our awareness in a dozen directions. We worry about the past—what we said or did. We worry about the future—tomorrow’s assignments or the next decade’s developments. Anxiety takes our attention from the right now and directs it “back then” or “out there.” But when you aren’t focused on your problem, you have a sudden availability of brain space. Use it for good.