Sermons
July 19, 2026 (Proper 11)
Do This First
Matthew 6:25-34
A couple shape note singers I know used to be in a sort of punk-ish band called Cordelia’s Dad.[1] I have one of their albums, on which there is a song called “Imaginary Trouble.”[2]
In the song, a couple is watching their daughter and her fiancé walking together, and their minds get to wandering. And no, they don’t muse about how lovely their wedding will be, or about how happy they’ll all be when grandchildren present themselves. No, they imagine that the pair marry, and have a baby, and then,
“And when that dear babe could walk, and just begin to waddle,
perhaps he might come here, and in the water paddle.
I know he will be drowned, I hear the waters calling…”
And they get themselves worked up at the prospect, and then when the younger couple happen by, they tell the two of them what they’re upset about; whereupon all four of them wail and cry about this poor wee baby who isn’t even a glint in its parents’ eyes yet!
Just what did anybody gain from devoting time and energy to worrying about the potential danger a baby who hasn’t even been conceived might face one day down the road?
My mom calls it “borrowing trouble.” It’s when we don’t have anything going on to worry about, so we borrow something from tomorrow—or even something imaginary—and worry about that.
I suspect we all do it from time to time. I know I do.
Last week we were watching a YouTube video about how the eruption of the hypothetical supervolcano under Yellowstone might affect not just the western United States but the entire world.
We don’t have to pull the theoretical effects out of thin air. The video we watched made reference to the global effects of the 1991 eruption of Mount Pinatubo in the Philippines, which weren’t as extreme as what the video thought might happen if Yellowstone erupts. It didn’t reach back to the catastrophic eruption of 536—which was either of Krakatoa in Indonesia or of a volcano in Iceland; there’s not agreement on that at this point—which actually ended some civilizations and forced people to migrate all over the place as their crops failed.
As I watched that video, with the illustrations depicting starving wildlife and empty grocery shelves in places like Chicago and even Atlanta, not to mention Europe and Asia, suddenly those ads for big boxes of shelf-stable emergency food seemed a lot less outlandish to me. (And even those boxes would run out well before the crisis caused by a Yellowstone eruption ran its course.)
But you know, there isn’t any credible indication that Yellowstone is going to erupt in the next few years—or even in our lifetime.[3] The energy—not to mention the elevated blood pressure—I used worrying about a Yellowstone supervolcano was wasted, energy that would have been better used on something else.
Well, that’s all fine and good, but there are worries that aren’t imaginary or out of our control. Sometimes when we worry we’re not actually borrowing trouble. We all have to eat, and we all have to keep a roof over our heads, and we need to save up for big purchases, insurance payments, retirement, those kinds of things. And if we have kids, we have a whole new set of worries.
But in today’s Scripture reading, Jesus tells us, “Do not worry.” Is that realistic?
Maybe back in the first century it was; most people Jesus was talking to didn’t have mortgages, or cars, they didn’t generally take vacations, and very few of them had the opportunity to retire. But today? Is Jesus’ instruction here applicable in the complex world of 2026? Does it even make sense?
Not only that, just telling someone not to worry doesn’t do a whole lot of good. It’s like if I told you right now, “Try not to think about what you’re going to have for supper tonight.” What’s going through your mind after that?
My guess would be that instantly the only thing you can think about is—you guessed it—your supper.
There are some of us for whom worrying is such a part of life that if someone tells us not to worry, we find ourselves worrying about the fact that we can’t stop worrying. Plus which, doggone it, there are some legitimate worries, and legitimate reasons to worry—and some worry does serve a constructive purpose.
If I find myself worrying about how I’m going to pay my property taxes at the end of the year, for instance, that worry might prompt me to do something to make sure I have the funds in my account when I need them, like putting some money out of each paycheck into a savings account.
So what are we supposed to get out of Jesus’ instruction, “Do not worry”?
Well, to begin with, it appears Jesus sees a theological problem in our worry about whether our basic necessities will be provided. We are the people of God—the God who feeds the birds and clothes wildflowers more beautifully even than the greatest and wealthiest king. So why would we worry about whether we’ll also be fed and clothed? That would demonstrate that we don’t really trust God.
If we did trust God, then, Jesus says, we have nothing to worry about.
And second, if the people of God are worrying about our basic necessities, our priorities are out of whack. We are devoting ourselves to the wrong things. God knows what we need, and God will provide it. So instead of worrying about the necessities of life, Jesus says we need to devote our energy to something else. “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” he says, “and all these things will be given to you as well.”
Maybe it doesn’t do a lot of good just to say, “Don’t worry, be happy,” even though that was one of my grandpa’s favorite songs and it is a cute, bouncy little bit of fun with a cameo by Robin Williams in the video;[4] but it is true that worry saps energy that would be better given to other things. Jesus calls us to turn the energy we have previously devoted to seeking our own well-being, our own provision, toward the business of God’s kingdom.
There is, of course, assurance in the text: God can be trusted to provide what we need. But there is also an enormous challenge, the same one that we pretty much always find in Jesus’ words. He wants us to have a single-minded focus on God’s kingdom, on living daily the completely countercultural way of life of citizens of the kingdom—the way of life he describes throughout the Sermon on the Mount.
No, it is not at all realistic according to the conventional wisdom of the world; but it is the way that leads to an abundant and joyful life, not in some far-off heaven, but right here, right now.
[1] “Cordelia’s Dad” is, of course, King Lear.
[2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEm7Krtmw7U
[3] There is an article about Yellowstone on the U.S. Geological Survey’s website that addresses whether Yellowstone is “overdue” for an eruption and when such an eruption might take place. https://www.usgs.gov/faqs/yellowstone-overdue-eruption-when-will-yellowstone-erupt?qt-news_science_products=0&items_per_page=6&page=1
[4] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-diB65scQU. Robin Williams’ friend and collaborator Bill Irwin joins him and singer Bobby McFerrin in the video.