Read the full transcript of author Max Lucado’s sermon titled “Anxious For Nothing”…
Listen to the audio version here:
TRANSCRIPT:
MAX LUCADO: I love your pastor. You do too. And I love this church. May God’s richest blessings be upon you. It’s a great, great honor. I bring you greetings from San Antonio, Texas. And they are so happy when I travel. I’ve been there since 1988. And they’re telling me that as I get older, my sermons are getting longer.
In fact, just a few weeks ago, a gentleman got up right in the middle of one of my sermons. And he started walking out. Can you believe that? I said, “Hey, where are you going?” He said, “Well, I’m going to get a haircut.” I said, “Well, why didn’t you get one before you came in?” He said, “I didn’t need one before I came in.”
We’re not too bright down there in south Texas. I told the church a few, well, it’s been a few years ago, I told the church, “I won’t be hanging around after the service today because I’m going to catch a flight. I’m going to Manhattan.” So as soon as the sermon was over, I hurried out and went to the parking lot.
One of our ladies at the church chased me down. And she said, “Pastor, did you say you’re going to Manhattan?” I said, “I did.” She said, “Could you say hello to my son while you’re there?” And I said, “It’s a short trip and that’s a big city. Give me his contact information. Let’s see what happens.” She said, “That’s the problem. We don’t know where he is. We’ve lost contact with him.”
I said, “Well, then how can I say hello to him?” She said, “Well, I’m thinking you might just bump into him.” I said, “That’s not going to happen. You don’t just bump into somebody.” She said, “You never know. Keep an eye out for a guy. His name is John Dunn.” I said, “I’m not going to just run into somebody named John Dunn.” She said, “You never know. Keep an eye out.”
Well, wouldn’t you know? Walking down the main thoroughfare and over the entryway to a building were the words “Dunn and Bradstreet.” And I thought that guy’s name was John Dunn. So I walked in. I went up to the receptionist. And I said, “Ma’am, can you tell me, do you have a John here?” She said, “We do. Down the hall, first door to the right.”
So I went down the hall. And I walked through the door. And there was a gentleman stepping out of the stall. I said, “Sir, can you tell me, are you Dunn?” He said, “I am.” I said, “Then call your mother.” You didn’t like that joke, did you? Steve, they’re kind of hard to please.
So these three pastors are sitting in a fishing boat. Something about the mood of the moment caused one of them to say, “I’ve never really confessed this. But I got to tell you, brothers, I have a gambling problem. In fact, a lot of the church money I’ve lost gambling.” The second pastor said, “Well, as long as we’re confessing, I’ve got a bit of a drinking problem. Nobody knows about it, but sometimes those trips, I tell the church I’m going to study.”
Those two pastors wait for the third to speak up. He doesn’t say anything. He just sits there fishing. Finally, they look to him and said, “Pastor, we’re confessing our sins. Anything you want to get off the chest?” He said, “Well, I will say this. I struggle a lot with gossip, and I can’t wait to get off this boat.” You like that one better, didn’t you?
We are really enjoying being here and God’s richest blessings on the campus. Can I ask your indulgence on something? I would typically, when I go speak at a church, shake as many hands, pray with as many people as possible. But you know what happened to me two weeks ago? I came down with shingles, and this is not a joke. Have you ever heard of shingles? Did that happen in Indiana? Boy, it sure happened in Texas. And I got to tell you, I’ve got enough juice to get me through the sermon, but I got a hydrocodone waiting on me in the hotel room. So if you’ll forgive me, as soon as we’re done, I’ll just slip out, okay?
Lord Jesus, have mercy upon us now as we open our hearts, as we open your word. Let your blessings please be upon Pastor Steve and Sandy. What beautiful, wonderful hearts. What a great work they do and have done. Forgive our speaker. His sins are many. Help us to see Jesus. Just Jesus. Through Jesus we pray. And all God’s people said, amen.
It’s 2:30 in the Morning and You Can’t Sleep
It’s 2.30 in the morning and you can’t sleep. You toss and you turn. You pound your pillow. You adjust the blankets. You roll to this side and then the other. Nothing works. Everyone else sleeps. Your spouse has taken up residence in dreamland. The dog is curled up at the foot of the bed. Everyone else sleeps.
But you, in six hours, you’ll be walking into a new job, new office, new chapter, new season, new world. You’ll be the rookie on the sales team. You’re wondering if you made the right decision. The hours are going to be long. The competition is severe.
Besides, you’re 23 years old. Right out of college, starting your first job. You’re 33 years old. Two kids to feed and a family to care for. You’re 43 years old. Latest victim of downsizing. 53 years old. Not the ideal age to change careers. You’re 63 years old. What happened to retirement plans and time with the grandkids? And here you are starting over, regardless of the age.
The questions fall like hailstones. Will I make enough money?
Will I make any friends? Will I have a cubicle? Will I be able to learn the software program, the sales pitch? Will I be able to find my way to the bathroom? Thoughts rage through your mind like a tornado through a Kansas wheat field.
Suddenly, you feel a pain in your neck and a new strand of anxiety takes over. Oh no, it’s cancer. Just like granddad. I’m going to have to have chemo. How will I endure chemo and a new job? Will the insurance cover chemo?
Your mind is restless. The only light in your room are the lights that come from that clock that tells you every minute is passing with less and less of a chance of getting a good night’s sleep. You cover your head with a pillow and you feel like crying. What a mess!
What does all this anxiety mean? All this trepidation. All this restlessness. All this insecurity. What does it mean? Simply this. You’re a human being. It doesn’t mean you’re emotionally underdeveloped. It doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It doesn’t mean you’re demon possessed. It doesn’t mean you’re a failure. It doesn’t mean that your parents failed you or vice versa.
And this is important. It doesn’t mean you’re not a Christian. Christians battle anxiety. Jesus battled anxiety for heaven’s sake in the garden of Gethsemane. He prayed three times that he would be delivered from the cup he was about to be given. His heart pumped with such ferocity that the capillaries broke and rivulets of crimson streaked down his face. He was anxious. But he didn’t stay anxious. He entrusted his fears to his heavenly Father and he completed his mission with faith. And he will help you do likewise.
There is a pathway out of the valley of fret. And God used the pen of the apostle Paul to sketch the map. Rejoice in the Lord always, he wrote. 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 your 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, if there is anything praiseworthy, meditate on these things.
A person would be hard-pressed to find a passage of scripture more practical and relevant to this day and age. Would you not agree? Americans don’t agree on much these days. That’s why we were surprised a couple of months ago when, according to a USA Today survey conducted at the latter part of 2021, 9 out of 10 Americans agree that we are having trouble staying sane. It’s all we can do to keep our heads on straight. Political chaos, the pandemic, uncertainty about the economy and the future.
The Journal of the American Medical Association cited a study that indicates an exponential increase in anxiety and depression. People of each generation in the 20th century were three times more likely to experience depression and anxiety than people of preceding generations. Three times. How can this be? Cars are safer than ever. We regulate food and water and electricity. Gangs do prowl our streets, but most of us don’t live under the danger of imminent attack.
Yet, if worry were an Olympic event, the United States would win the gold medal. Our college kids are feeling it as well. In a study that involved more than 200,000 incoming freshmen, students reported all-time lows in overall mental health and emotional stability. One psychologist, Robert Leahy, pointed out that the average child today exhibits the same level of anxiety as the average psychiatric patient of the 1950s. Kids have more toys, clothes, opportunities than ever, but by the time they leave home, they’re wrapped tighter than Egyptian mummies.
We’re tense. And we’re paying a price for it. To see the consequences of anxiety, just read about half the ailments in any medical textbook. Do not fret, wrote the psalmist in Psalm 37 and verse 8. It only causes harm. Amen. Harm to our necks, our backs, our bowels, our jaws. Anxiety can twist us into emotional pretzels. It can make our eyes twitch, our blood pressure rise, our heads ache, and our armpits sweat. Anxiety ain’t fun.
What Can We Do About Anxiety?
So what can we do? I certainly don’t mean to leave the impression that anxiety can be waved away with a simple sermon from a guest preacher. In fact, for some people, for many people, God’s healing will include the help of therapy and or medication. And if that describes you, please, you’re not a second class citizen. Let God’s ministry come however God ministers.
Most of us, however, would benefit greatly from a good dollop of Philippians chapter 4, verses 4 through 8. I think this passage from the book of Philippians provides wonderful spiritual tools for overcoming anxiety. Be anxious for nothing, wrote the apostle. How does some slack here, Paul, we want to slay? Aren’t you asking a lot? How about just be anxious on every day but Thursdays?
But the apostle Paul doesn’t seem to give us any room to wiggle. Be anxious for nothing, nada, zilch, zero. Is that what he wrote? Well, not exactly. He wrote this phrase in that active tense in Greek, which implies an ongoing state. It’s this life of perpetual anxiety that the apostle Paul is walking us away from. He could have written and we could translate it. Do not allow yourselves to be caught in a state of perpetual anxiety. The presence of anxiety is unavoidable. But the prison of anxiety is optional.
And so the apostle offers here some ideas on how to win the war on worry. And to help me remember these ideas, I’ve turned them into a handy, helpful little acrostic: C-A-L-M. You want to know how to stay calm? The apostle says, first of all, celebrate God’s goodness. Celebrate God’s goodness. Rejoice in the Lord always again. I will say, rejoice. Boy, he comes at us with both pistols, doesn’t he? Exclamation point. Repeating it. Rejoice in the Lord always again. I’ll say, rejoice.
Listen to me, Lucado. Rejoice. You want to deal with anxiety? Don’t meditate on the mess. Meditate on your master. It does you no good to ponder your problem. It does you no good to ruminate on your struggles. Rejoice in the Lord. The more you look at God, the more your problem is brought down to its proper size. As the psalmist said, I will lift up my eyes into the hills. From whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord who made the heaven and the earth.
Do you see the intentionality in the words? I will lift up my eyes. We get to choose where we look. We get to choose where we look. I will lift up my eyes into the hills. You gain nothing by setting your eyes on the problem. But you gain everything by setting your eyes on the Lord.
Was this not the lesson that the apostle Peter learned on the stormy sea of Galilee? He was a fisherman. He knew what those ten foot waves could do to small boats. Maybe that’s why he volunteered to climb out of the boat when he saw Jesus walking on water through the storm. And he cried out, “Lord, if it’s really you, command me to come to you on the water.” And Jesus said, “Come.” And Peter left the boat and walked on the water to Jesus.
But when Peter saw the wind and the waves, he became afraid and he began to sink. As long as his eyes were on the master, he could do the impossible. But when his eyes were on the storm, he sunk like a stone. Rejoice in the Lord.
Are you sinking like a stone today? Could it be because you’re looking in the wrong direction? I wish you could have met my dad. He was a West Texas mechanic in the oil field. Shaped like a radiator. Block of a guy. Had a great laugh. And he had a nightly ritual that I’ve never seen imitated by any other person.
First of all, he loved buttermilk and cornbread. Is that just a Texas thing? You’ve heard of others? It’s not that bad. I’m not into it myself, but hey. He loved it. And every night, he would meander into the kitchen after the two boys were in bed. After his wife was in bed, he would meander in his tank top and his long underwear. Into the kitchen. And there he would pour himself a glass of buttermilk. And he would crumble up some cornbread. And he would sit there and scoop it out with a spoon.
Does that make you hungry? We lived in a small house. Three doors. Front door, back door, garage door. And he would then rotate, walk through the house. Checking all the locks. Loudly enough that we could hear the click, click, click, click, click, click. And then he would stand in the center of our small house. And he would bellow, “The house is safe. You can sleep now.”
Dear friend, God has brought you here. So He, as your heavenly Father, can tell you: The world is safe. You can rest. I know the news says otherwise. I know the paper says otherwise. I know your friends say otherwise. But let me tell you, your heavenly Father is running the show. And as you inhale Him, you can exhale hope. Would you receive that?
I believe right now the Spirit of the Lord is talking to somebody. And He just wants you to know the house is safe. And nothing is going to pass through you that doesn’t first pass through Him. I have no inclination to believe that God loves cornbread and buttermilk. But I do believe He loves you. And He doesn’t need to check the doors. Indeed, He is the door. And nothing will come your way apart from His permission.
The scripture says this in 1 Timothy chapter 6 and verse 15. God is the blessed controller of all things. The king over all kings. And the master of all masters. If He sustains all and controls all, don’t you think He has authority over this situation that’s keeping you awake at night? What about His mercy? Is God’s grace great enough to cover all of your sin? Yes, there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. You can rejoice in His sovereignty. You can rejoice in His mercy.
That’s step one. Face God before you face your fears. Then you’ll be ready to… Number two, ask God for help. The apostle says, let your requests be made known to God. Fear triggers either prayer or despair. Choose wisely. God said, “Call on Me in the day of trouble.” Psalm 50 and verse 15.
Jesus said, “Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and you will find. Knock and it will be opened to you.” There’s no uncertainty in that promise. No perhaps or possibly will. Jesus states unflinchingly that when you ask, He listens. So ask. Ask. And when anxiety knocks on the door of your heart, would you say, “Jesus, can you answer that please?”
Reduce your request down to a statement. And present your request to your heavenly Father. Pray like Jesus who said, “Give us this day our daily prayer.” Engage in specific prayer. Engage in promise-based prayer. The scripture says, “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence.” Confidence. The path to peace is paved with prayer.
The Old Testament prophet said, “Put the Lord in remembrance of His promises and keep not silence.” Isaiah 62 and verse 6. God told Isaiah and he tells you, “Put me in remembrance. Let us contend together.” Isaiah 43 and verse 26. God commands you to remind Him of His promises. So when you have a problem, find a promise with which you can face your problem and make a prayer out of it.
Lord, did you not say you would walk me through the valley of the shadow of death? Lord, did you not say that you would walk me through the waters? Lord, did you not say that you would never leave me? That you would never forsake me?
Find a promise that fits your problem and then just build a prayer around it. These prayers touch the heart of your heavenly Father and activate, activate the response of angels to your presence. Miracles are set into motion. Will your prayer, the answer to your prayer come overnight? It might. Then again, it might not. But you will overcome. You will overcome.
And having done so, you can do this. You can leave your concerns with God. First you celebrate your heavenly Father. Then you ask the Lord for help. And then you leave your concerns with God. Let God take charge. Let God do what He is so willing to do. Guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. You leave your concerns with Him. Just leave them with Him.
Have you ever taken something to an appliance repair shop to be repaired? Maybe a toaster or a vacuum cleaner. Maybe it quit working and you tried to fix it but you had no success. So you took it to a specialist. You explained the problem and then what did you do? Raise your hand if you offered to stay and help him fix it. Did you bring a sleeping bag and throw it out on the floor and say I’ll sleep here and watch you work? You left it with him. The arrangement is uncomplicated. You let him fix it.
Take your problem. Give it to your heavenly Father. And leave it with Him. Leave it with Him. It’s no longer yours to carry. No longer yours to carry. And when the devil stirs your memory about that problem, say well you’re going to have to talk to God about it because I left it with Him.
Raise your right hand please. And repeat after me. I hereby resign as ruler of the universe. Doesn’t that feel better? It was never your job anyway. God does not need our help. He does not need our counsel. He does not need our advice. We leave it with Him.
Then knowing that we all of a sudden have all of this brain space available because we’re not thinking about our problems anymore. All of that space can be occupied with gratitude. Here’s what the apostle says. But in everything by prayer and petition. By prayer and supplication. With what? Thanksgiving. With Thanksgiving. Let your requests be bend on to God.
Did you know that anxiety refuses to share the heart with gratitude? Did you know that anxiety refuses to share the heart with gratitude? When anxiety sees Thanksgiving walk in, anxiety walks out.
My friend Jerry has taught me this. He’s 78 years old and he regularly shoots his age on the golf course. If I ever do that I’ll need to live to be 100. His dear wife Ginger battles Parkinson’s disease. And what should have been a wonderful season of retirement has been marred by multiple hospital stays and medication and struggles. Many days she cannot keep her balance. And most days Jerry stays by her side. And on the rare occasion he does get out to play golf he has to provide a caregiver.
But he always has a smile. He always has a joke. And he always beats me in golf. One day walking down the fairway I said, “How do you do it? Jerry, really, how do you do it? I think I’d be bitter. I’d be resentful. But you’re so lighthearted, how do you do it?”
He said, “Well, every morning I sit on the bedside with Ginger. And I say, ‘Ginger, do you want to sing a hymn?’ And every morning she says yes. And I say, ‘What do you want to sing?’ And she says, ‘Why don’t we sing Count Your Many Blessings?'”
Take a moment and follow Jerry’s example. Take a moment. What blessings have come your way today? What blessings? Any friends? Good health? Enough provision to drive a car to come to church? Warm bed in which to sleep? Do you have some blessings? As you list your blessings, do you not notice the trepidations begin to slip out the door? The quickest way to deal with anxiety is gratitude. Gratitude. The more grateful the heart, the less anxious the soul. As you look at your blessings, you will see anxiety slip out.
Now, one heartfelt thank you will suck the oxygen out of the world of worry. So say it often. Take your mind off your burdens and count your blessings. Now, when you aren’t focused on your burdens, you have sudden availability of some brain space. So use it for gratitude.
But then also, and then lastly, meditate on good things. Just meditate on good things. And the apostle gives us a pretty good list here. It takes up a paragraph. 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, if there is anything praiseworthy, meditate on these things.
Don’t let anxious, negative thoughts take over your mind. Meditate on good things. Anxious, negative thoughts. Did you see what I just did? A-N-T. A counselor told me that once. He said most people who struggle with anxiety let those little ants, anxious, negative thoughts, just creep into their brain and take over their thoughts. But the apostle says meditate on good things.
One of the toughest days of my life found me in a diner in Dalton, Georgia. I was 19 years old. And I was a week into my first summer job of college. I was a thousand miles away from home. And I was spending each night in a Salvation Army shelter where the night before an inebriated guy on the bunk above mine had rolled over and thrown up.
If homesickness were water, I would have been soaked to the bone. On the promise of new sites and fast cash, I had taken a job and joined up with two friends to sell books door to door. My friends quit and went home during sales school. I was all alone.
So I went out my first day into the field and I made a discovery that I wish someone had told me before I left. And that is people don’t like door to door salesmen. Did you already know that? “Hello, I’m Max.” Slam! “Hello, I’m Max.” Slam! This went on all day and the second day was not any better.
Around noon of the second day, I pulled my car into a diner and I took my bruised ego in and I sat down and I ordered a hamburger and I felt sorry for myself. As I was paying my bill, I spotted a display of magnetized, rubberized truisms, little slogans. Maybe you have one or have seen them. You can buy them and affix them to your refrigerator or your stove.
And there was one that was shaped like a lemon and as I began the quote, you’ll be able to finish it. The quote said, “When life gives you a lemon,” you have the same little rubber lemon, don’t you? I know the slogan is worn out. It’s folksy, it’s corny, it’s homespun. But somehow in my 19 years, I’d never heard it and I needed to.
So I bought that little thing. I took it out to the car and I affixed it to a metal strip on the dashboard of my 1973 Plymouth Duster. And whenever I got discouraged, I would just rub my thumb over that little rubber lemon and remind myself, I can make myself miserable or I can make myself some lemonade.
Now, you know, people still slam doors. And I still wondered what in the world I was doing so far from home. But I survived. I was 19. You know, I turned 67 a couple of weeks ago. I’m closing in on 50 years since that day. Half a century has passed. And much has changed. But you know what has not? Life still gives lemons. It does. Of course, my prospects of a miserable summer are nothing compared to some of the lemons that you’ve been handed. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Last Sunday at church, I visited with a single mom, three kids pulling at her from every direction, all single digit age. She hadn’t heard from her husband. She said, “Max, I can’t remember when I’ve had a good night’s sleep.” Life gives lemons.
A few months ago, I received a call from a friend, a former neighbor of ours, who was about to have to take the car keys away from her dementia ridden husband. In better days, he was a pilot. And now he can’t drive a car. Life still gives lemons.
I need to return a call to a friend who’s going through a divorce, and he is honestly convinced he’ll never be happy again. Life still gives lemons. Life gives lemons to old people, to young people. Life gives lemons to bad people, to good people. Life gives lemons to all people. Life comes with lemons. But you know what, my friend? We don’t have to suck on them.
Many years ago, I wrote this resolve in my journal. Today, I will live today. Yesterday has passed. Tomorrow is not yet. I’m left with today. So today, I will live today. Relive yesterday? No. I will learn from it, and I will seek mercy for it. And I will take joy in it, but I won’t live in it. The sun has set on yesterday. The sun has yet to rise on tomorrow.
Worry about the future? To what gain? It deserves a glance. Nothing more. I can’t change tomorrow until tomorrow. Today, I will live today. I will face today’s challenges with today’s strength. I will dance today’s waltz with today’s music. I will celebrate today’s opportunities with today’s hope. Today. May I laugh, listen, learn, and love. And tomorrow, if it comes, may I do so again.
In his fine book, The Dance of Hope, Bill Frey, who has passed on into heaven, is a retired Episcopalian priest in San Antonio. In that book, he tells a story about growing up in Georgia. And as a 12-year-old boy, his summer job was to pull stumps out of the ground. The purpose of that was to turn those stumps into fire kindling that could be used later in the year.
He remembers on one occasion his father driving off to work as he went out to a particular stump. And he worked all day on that stump. And he could not get it out of the ground. He used every tool at his disposal. And he pushed and he pulled and he pushed and he pulled. And he was covered with sweat. And finally, his father came home.
His father parked his car. His father walked through the field. His father walked over to Bill where Bill was working. And Bill was just pulling and tugging on that stump and still couldn’t get it out of the ground. The father sat on another stump and watched his son work until finally the father spoke up and said, “Bill, I think I see your problem.” And Bill said, “What?” And the father said, “You’re not using all your strength.”
Oh, that caused Bill to erupt. “Dad, I’ve been working all day. I’m exhausted. I’ve used all my strength.” And the father said, “No, you haven’t.” And the boy said, “Yes, I have.” And the father said, “No, you haven’t asked me to help you.”
For some of you, this business of dealing with anxiety, it has deep roots. Please forgive me if I leave the impression that it can be dealt with easily. I do not mean to do so. But I do mean to encourage you. I do encourage you on behalf of your heavenly Helper who is saying to you, “I’ll help you.” And the anxiety that has marked your days thus far need not mark them from now forward.
There is a new day awaiting you, my friend. And in the name of Jesus Christ, the King of kings, the miracle worker, we declare over you fresh healing, fresh hope, fresh strength. Your heavenly Father here to help you, strengthen you, and to guide you, and to lead you into a life in which you can honestly say, “I’m anxious for nothing.”
Gracious heavenly Father, now have Your mercy upon all who hear these words. You be the speaker. And You please do what only You can do, and that is bring healing from top to bottom, from inside out. Do the work You can do, please. We declare and pray in the name of Jesus Christ and all God’s people said, Amen.
