Defeating the Worry Demon

Feb 25

page detail from *Philippians,* 1611 KJV Bible (Replica Edition) photo by jch

Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 75, Philippians 4:4-8

Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. –Philippians 4:6

“Do not worry about anything,” wrote Paul. When that sort of advice is given, usually it’s because the person receiving it believes there is plenty to worry about. “Don’t worry about anything” sounds like something my teenage children said right after I learned of their plans for the weekend. In our time, in Paul’s time, from the earliest years of the human species, our struggle to survive has included challenges that prompt us to worry.

In some times and places, worry has played such a large, unwanted role in daily thoughts that it has seemed like the work of an evil spirit. To label worry a “demon,” as I have in today’s sermon title, isn’t an idea original to me. A Google search yields many results about “demonic deception” that leads to anxiety, and sermon titles that include some form of the words “worry” and “demon.”

Some of those sermons point to the text I’ve read for you. The Christians living in Philippi faced external challenges to their survival, and internal challenges to their unity. Paul advised, Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

Depending on how my day is going, I may reply to Paul by saying, “Easier said than done.” For example, this past week, I was working on the laptop, with the news on in the background. I wasn’t paying much attention, until I heard NBC’s chief foreign correspondent Richard Engel growing even more animated than normal. Refocusing on the television, I saw Engel in conversation with the CEO of Ukraine’s nuclear power company.[1] They were discussing the situation at the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant, the largest in Europe. A couple years ago, the plant was attacked, then occupied by Russian forces, and currently rests on the front line between two armies.

Nuclear-power experts are worried about three main dangers. First, there is the danger of a catastrophic military strike. Second, there is danger of electricity failure to the equipment that cools the reactors, three power lines out, and the fourth in faulty condition, with several brief blackouts already. Third, there is the danger posed by improper maintenance by an abused and demoralized staff, originally 11,000, now reduced to 4,000. Engel interviewed an expert who has attempted to map the radiation contamination that would occur in the event of a meltdown. Apparently, it would spread to neighboring countries, and leave large portions of land uninhabitable for up to 100 years. After listening to all that, it was difficult to eat dinner without feeling some nervous indigestion.

If you’ve been listening to the news, then I’ll bet you’ve felt the same way, at least once, in recent weeks. We’ve had reasons to ponder the direction of our nation, the integrity of our leaders, the security of our borders, the safety of our communities, even the purity of our morning bowl of oatmeal. In one household or another, there’s concern about how to pay bills, address health challenges, or support our families through crisis. It’s not unusual to be walking through the day, turn a corner, and come face to face with the demon called worry.

When I respond to Paul’s advice with “Easier said than done,” I think I might get some sympathy from Paul himself. Fred Craddock, in his commentary on Philippians, points out that the same Paul who says, “Do not worry (or do not be anxious) about anything,” also says in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for all the churches”(2 Cor. 11:28).[2] Both places he uses a form of the same Greek word “merimna.” Paul, who tells others to avoid worry, couldn’t avoid it himself. “See,” I say to Paul, “Easier said than done.”

Craddock suggests we be a little more precise about what Paul means by making make a distinction between worry and wise watchfulness, between anxiety and alertness.[3] When Paul says, “do not worry,” he is not advocating a flippantly carefree or cavalier approach to life. After all, Paul’s entire letter is motivated by a concern for the Philippians’ welfare. Jesus, too, told his disciples to stay awake, to be prepared for rejection and persecution, but at the same time, “do not worry about tomorrow.” These texts challenge Christians to be alert, but not anxious. That’s a difficult balance to achieve.

If we take seriously the advice of Jesus and Paul, then there are some practices that play a role in diminishing worry. Jesus says, “consider the lilies of the field” and “look at the birds of the air.” That advice is echoed by meditation guides who say that if you focus more on the beauty around you, then you’ll focus less on the worry within you. Paul says, “rejoice,” to ask for God’s help “with thanksgiving.” His advice sounds like counselors who say that if you praise God for what is good, and thank God for blessings, then it’s better for your mental health than complaining about what is bad.

Still, defeating the worry demon is easier said than done. According to the Centers for Disease Control, in year 2020 about 20% of US adults – approximately 50-million people – took medication “for feelings of anxiety, for depression, or to help with any other emotions or with their concentration, behavior, or mental health.”[4] In some corners of the Christian Church, such treatment is frowned upon. So I want to be very clear in saying that competent and compassionate health care is one of the great blessings of our time and place. If you live with debilitating symptoms of anxiety, then you should never be ashamed to seek out treatment by medical and counseling professionals. I’m grateful for those who have served and treated members of my family, and helped them in their battle to defeat the worry demon.

During the past year, nothing has helped me more than meditation practices that involve deep breathing and listening to choral music. When I do that, often something happens that I might describe as the surrender of worry. Worry is taken off my shoulders and given to God.

Many of you know I helped care for Betty Dierkes during her final years. Betty’s journey was not like my mother’s journey, but her dying days raised some of the same feelings in me. When I was especially worried, nothing touched me more deeply, nothing enabled surrender of worry more fully, than listening to the choir of the Taizé Community.

The song that has meant the most to me is known by its German title: Gott ist nur Liebe. Its lyrics, which are sung repeatedly to a simple melody, form the basis for the first part of today’s “charge and benediction.”

· When I worry about the loneliness of illness and death, the song reminds me, “God is nothing but love.”

· When I worry about pain and heartache, the song reminds me, “Dare to give all for love.”

· When I worry about darkness closing in all around, the song reminds me, “Give yourself without fear.”

By now, you all understand that I speak to you not as a conqueror of worry, but as a fellow soldier in our common battle against it. I’ll keep up the battle, but I’m not confident that I’ll ever see the worry demon defeated – until that moment on my final journey, when I hope I’ll hear something like the sweet music of “God is nothing but love,” then fall into the arms of Jesus.

NOTES

[1] https://www.nbc.com/nbc-nightly-news/video/alarming-new-warnings-about-russian-held-zaporizhzhia-nuclear-power-plant/NBCN507205815 , accessed 21 Feb. 2024.

[2] Fred B. Craddock, Philippians, a volume in Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1985, p. 72.

[3] Craddock, p. 72.

[4] https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/products/databriefs/db419.htm#Summary, accessed 23 Feb. 2024.