Word Count: 1278

Contact James Barringer

Do You Worry Like A Squirrel?

by James Barringer  
11/19/2011 / Christian Living

There's a large tree in my front yard, and I do a certain dance with the squirrels who live there. Most days, I come home from work and there's a squirrel standing in the middle of the front yard, serving as a rather underwhelming greeting party. I step out of the car, lock the door, and start walking up the sidewalk toward the front door. The squirrel watches intently as I walk, and then abruptly, when I reach about ten feet away, he'll take off running up the tree. He'll watch suspiciously as I open the front door and let myself in, and I'll return the favor by shutting the front door and watching through the window as he resumes his old position and goes back to chittering away and doing whatever squirrels do when they think no one is looking.

What I want to know is, why is this squirrel afraid of me? On the one hand, I suppose it kind of makes sense. I am (compared to the squirrel, at least) quite huge, and also quite unpredictable. On the other hand, it really doesn't make any sense at all. We've done this dance for the last ten months, since my wife and I bought this house, and at no point have I ever made any gesture which could be interpreted as overtly threatening toward the squirrel, giving him very little good reason to fear me. Furthermore, if I did intend to harm him, I would do so by hiding a significant distance away and popping him through the head with a .22, in which case he would not even have the opportunity to run away because I would never get close to him. So basically, bless his little rodentine heart, all he's doing is wasting his time and disrupting his day every time he goes scampering up that tree.

I find that many of us fall into the same patterns of wrong thinking that give the squirrel his irrational fears and his irrational response to them. The first problem the squirrel has is that he's spending his time and energy - in fact, building his entire life around - trying to worry about the wrong things. Most people seem to worry about one of three types of things: (1) things which are not likely to happen at all; (2) things which they can do nothing about; and (3) things which will not be that bad even if they happen (such as, for instance, the teenager obsessing about how the world will end if he gets rejected when he asks the girl out - which never once happened to me, by the way). Those are squirrel fears. Just like the squirrel, though, we go to extreme measures to flee from the things we're afraid of, even if they are not likely to ever happen - and frequently, the attempt to avoid pain merely causes us to avoid the blessings which often dance arm-in-arm with pain. For instance, you can't love someone without running the risk of being hurt. If you flee the very thought of fear, like a squirrel, you're going to have a squirrel's life. In the squirrel's life, the thing he fears is not likely to happen at all. If it did, there's not much he could do about it. If it did happen - that is, if I decided to start chasing him - it still wouldn't be that bad. He'd just have to go running up the tree...exactly like he does every single time I'm not chasing him. Many times, the things we do in order to avoid pain are eerily similar to the things we would have to do if the pain actually happened.

The second thing wrong with the squirrel's thinking has to do with if I truly wanted to harm him. Namely, I would do it in a way he didn't expect, by sniping him across the yard. Similarly, most of the really devastating things that happen to us in life are things that we couldn't see coming, couldn't possibly worry about even if we tried. So in other words, all that time we spend worrying is wasted, not merely because it's not productive, but because we're not even worrying about the right things. The squirrel thinks the worst thing that could happen to him is a giant gangly human chasing him across the yard; he couldn't be more wrong. It's the same way with us. The bad things that happen to us are going to slam into us like a .22 to the skull, out of nowhere, with no warning, no way to worry about them even if we know what to be afraid of. We fear like squirrels, thinking we know exactly what might happen to us, but we're so helpless it's not even funny. We worry, but we don't even know how to worry about the right things.

So that's us, as humans: worrying about things that will probably never happen to us, obsessing over things we can't prevent, terrified over things that wouldn't be that bad even if they happen - and all the while oblivious, with no clue about what will actually happen to us. Our worries are just occupying thought cycles, distracting us from the bright and beautiful things happening around us every day, convincing us to "play it safe" when "safe" is really no safer than living on the edge, letting our fears keep us from doing the things which might give us the most joy and satisfaction in life.

I could go a lot of places from here, talking about how Jesus said not to worry, but let me be honest: I don't often see people change simply because Jesus said to. I see people change when they realize that they way they're doing things doesn't work any more, and that a better way is available. So, the way we worry isn't working any more. We worry the same way that squirrels do. At the core of our minds, we're really no more advanced than they are, allowing ourselves to be governed by animal instincts rather than living from the divine nature God has given us. We voluntarily allow that to happen to ourselves, go along with it, convince ourselves that worrying is pragmatic or somehow helpful. It's not. It's rodentine. And it's going to cause you to live a squirrel's life if you don't get your thoughts under control.

Meanwhile, all God offers us is himself. He doesn't offer us foreknowledge of life's catastrophes; he doesn't offer a life free from pain or loss. On the contrary, he promises us difficulty: "In this world, you will have troubles," he vows in John 16:33. The hope comes in his next breath: "But take heart! I have overcome the world." Every moment you allow yourself to wallow in worry is a moment that you're not taking heart. You stop choosing to overcome the world and choose to allow yourself to drown in its sorrows and struggles. It's a decision of the will, not the emotion. Habakkuk writes, "Even though the fig tree withers and there's no fruit on the vines, the flock be cut off from the field and the herd be missing from the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord." The only remedy for worry is choosing joy, choosing worship and praise. That's the only thing that can reflect your thoughts from the world to the one who has overcome the world.

I think that tomorrow I'm going to go chase that squirrel up the tree. At least then he'll have a good reason to be afraid of me.

Jim Barringer is a 38-year-old writer, musician, and teacher. More of his work can be found at facebook.com/jmbarringer. This work may be reprinted for any purpose so long as this bio and statement of copyright is included.

Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com-CHRISTIAN WRITERS

If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! Click here and TRUST JESUS NOW

Read more articles by James Barringer

Like reading Christian Articles? Check out some more options. Read articles in Main Site Articles, Most Read Articles or our highly acclaimed Challenge Articles. Read Great New Release Christian Books for FREE in our Free Reads for Reviews Program. Or enter a keyword for a topic in the search box to search our articles.

Enter comments below. Due to spam, all hyperlinks posted in the comments are now immediately disabled by our system.

Please type the following word below:

Not readable? Change text.

The opinions expressed by authors do not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.

Hire a Christian Writer, Christian Writer Wanted, Christian Writer Needed, Christian Content Needed, Find a Christian Editor, Hire a Christian Editor, Christian Editor, Find a Christian Writer