Why Worry? by G. B. T.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · Jan 6, 1916

Why Worry?

By G. B. T.

A GENTLEMAN visited a school of deaf-and-dumb children, and was asked to write for them a question on the blackboard. He wrote, “Why did God make you deaf and dumb, while I can hear and speak?” Tears filled the eyes of many as they thought of their sad affliction. Presently, however, a little boy stepped forward, and taking the chalk, wrote beneath the question, “Even so, Father: for so it seemed good in thy sight.”

Here, from the writing of a child, we are instructed in the secret of rest. It comes from an abiding trust in the Lord. When we can see in the trials and perplexities of life the hand of an infinite and loving God, and with confidence look up and say, “Even so, Father: for so it seemed good in thy sight,” fretting and nights made sleepless by worry will pass away.

Why worry, anyway? Did it ever do any good? Did it ever bring a blessing into your soul? Did it ever solve any perplexity, or change the aspect of any question? Did it ever strengthen your soul for a future conflict, or enable you to bring a blessing to your neighbors or friends?—Never. It simply destroys our peace of mind, wrecks us mentally and spiritually, and unfits us for doing our best in the struggle of life.

The apostle writes, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” Rom. 8:28. It is easier to admonish others to believe this text when they are walking in the shadows, and we in the sunshine, than to receive it for comfort into our own souls when we are in the grip of some sad bereavement or some terrible disappointment, or to explain the mysterious providence seen in some frightful catastrophe which has spread ruin and death about us. But God’s word is true when we cannot see, as well as it is when we can. It often shines the clearest when darkness surrounds us; and frequently, when the clouds are dispelled and rays of light again are seen, we find that the experience which seemed so trying and so hard to bear was for our good after all.

I once read of two painters on a high scaffold completing some beautiful design. One of them, after giving his work some finishing touches, stepped back to see its beauty. Absorbed in viewing the production of his own hand and brain, he stepped farther back, forgetful of the place where he was standing; still another step to the rear, and he stood on the very edge, ready to step off and be dashed to the pavement below. Seeing his danger, and knowing that prompt action must be taken to save him, his companion dashed his paintbrush against the work his friend was admiring, destroying its beauty. The artist sprang forward, and in anger demanded why this was done. When it was explained to him that it was to save him from death by being dashed to the street below, he was happy and thankful.

So in our experience. The Lord must destroy many of the beautiful plans we have drawn in our minds, in order to save us. And if we would only banish worry, and trustingly rest in the hands of our loving Father in heaven, how it would sweeten life for us! Our Father knows, and he cares for us.

“Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.” Luke 12:6, 7.

The following paragraph expresses the same sentiment, and can be studied with profit:—

God never leads his children otherwise than they would choose to be led, if they could see the end from the beginning, and discern the glory of the purpose which they are fulfilling as coworkers with him. Not Enoch, who was translated to heaven, not Elijah, who ascended in a chariot of fire, was greater or more honored than John the Baptist, who perished alone in the dungeon. “Unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake.” And of all the gifts that Heaven can bestow upon men, fellowship with Christ in his sufferings is the most weighty trust and the highest honor.—“The Desire of Ages,” page 225.

G. B. T.