No prowling wolves

Why do we envision a future in which Christ is inddifferent? | Tony Woodlief

Do not worry about tomorrow. This is not the promise of a trouble-free life. It is workflow management advice (Sufficient for the day is its own trouble, i.e., you've got plenty to worry over now, buddy). But it is also a command, which implies that worrying is a choice.

This leaves me puzzled and hopeful. I am puzzled because I am fairly sure that I hate worrying. It gives me stomach cramps, and yet it is like breathing to me. I am hopeful as well, because in Christ's command there is the implication that I can become someone who does not worry but is peace-filled, even within sight of the Valley of the Shadow.

As I write this, my wife and I are praying that our baby, Isaiah, does not have a brain tumor. There is something wrong with him, and though the odds are that he will be fine, we find ourselves defying this enjoinment not to worry, and praying over and over: Please, Lord, not another one. This is what happens after you have buried a child, you see prowling wolves in every shadow. You hear mortal illness behind every cough. You worry about tomorrow, because today's troubles are nothing compared to what might happen next.