Lately, I’ve been listening to Savannah Guthrie (Today Show host) read her book Mostly What God Does: Reflections on Seeking and Finding His Love Everywhere. It’s a lovely “listen,” written to savor rather than inform. In one of the later chapters, Guthrie reflects on speaking for college commencements, and said a perk is being presented with an honorary degree, which really doesn’t have much value, but still feels good.

What honorary degree might I receive? I wondered, then decided I could be given an honorary degree in worrying!

I know worry has little to no value, but on some level, it feels good. Some of my propensity toward worry originated from my mother. She was a masterful worrier. She was also a woman of deep devotion to God and commitment to prayer, and often spiritualized worry, re-wording it as being “deeply burdened.”

Some of Jesus’s most compelling words were spoken in his Sermon on the Mount (See Matthew 5-7). I read and listen to them often. Here’s a snippet when Jesus challenges the notion of worrying:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life … Consider the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? (Matthew 6:25-27)

Many years ago, on a getaway to Walla Walla, Washington, we visited a garden gift store where I discovered a most delightful rustic angel birdhouse. We brought it home, and I showcased it as yard art. The little opening was covered, un-inviting birds to make themselves at home. After several seasons, paint flaked off the weathered surface, and I told my husband I was ready to get rid of it. Instead, Ron got out his tall metal ladder and affixed it some 12 feet off the ground to the giant fir tree in our backyard. He removed the barrier, and for the past few years, little nuthatches—unconcerned about shabby and weather beaten—began making the angel birdhouse home for tiny offspring.

It won’t be long now until we hear little squeaky “chirps” coming from the angel birdhouse. And before we know it, teeny, little heads will emerge, and we’ll watch as mama and daddy bring miniscule insects to nourish their offspring. By autumn, the babies will have flown away. Perhaps, they’ll return to our birdfeeder come wintertime, but who knows? Except God, who according to Scripture knows even every tiny bird.

Truly, there’s a lot to worry about in the fractured, hurting and hurtful world in which we reside! And I am beyond grateful the Holy Spirit burdens concerned souls who are willing to pray.

Beyond the worries and burdens, however, I know my soul prospers and my faith in God’s sovereign care strengthens when I pause to “look at the birds of the air” and remember that worry does not “add a single hour to my life.”

Consider the Birds

Dark Night