Jesus sat near the Temple money box and watched the people put in their money. Many rich people

gave large sums of money. 42 Then a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which were

only worth a few cents. Calling his followers to him, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow gave more than all those

rich people. 44 They gave only what they did not need. This woman is very poor, but she gave all she had;

she gave all she had to live on.”

- Mark 12:41-44 (New Century Version)

For years I lived in a barren valley filled with irrational fears, deep-rooted worry, and unwavering anxiety. My world was painted in murky shades of grey and beige – shadows, really. This barrenness was my landscape – the only life I knew – and no matter what I did (or didn’t) do, there seemed to be no escape. I was trapped in a prison of my own thoughts, and I had no idea how to get out.

For me worry has always been a constant companion, that toxic friend disguised as a productive means to an end. Generationally, the practice of worry was heaved onto me from my mother, her mother, and her mother’s mother. You see, to the women in my family worry meant many things. It meant action. It meant care. It meant you were invested in the outcome.

Put simply, worry equals love.

It also equaled control.

At times, my torrent of thoughts would deceive me. “See, aren’t you glad you worried about such-and- such? It made you retrace your steps, fix your mistakes, and overthink until you got things just right.” Just right. Another impossible standard of measure. Just right. Perfect and pleasing in every way. Just right. On my own terms and in my own strength.

Unlike the widow we read about in Mark, who freely gave what she had to God – open handed, trusting, and expectant; I battled each day with a death grip around my life. Ultimately, the fear of scarcity (of time, control, or resources) revealed itself in one simple statement: I didn’t trust God.

Before I could break free from my prison of thoughts, I had to acknowledge this truth and “…demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God and take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” 

- (2 Cor. 10:5 NIV).

Instead of coins, God wanted my very thoughts. But was I willing to sacrifice my way for His?

For Reflection:

As you contemplate your spiritual “before” in this area of life, consider these reflection questions written by Christine Valters Paintner, author of A Different Kind of Fast: Feeding our True Hungers in Lent.

1) What forms of scarcity especially cause you anxiety?

2) What does “enough” look like for you? Enough time, enough money, enough love?

3) What does your hunger for “enough” feel like?

Clearly, my way was not healthy, so I began to search for God’s intentions for my life. Growing up in a strict, Christian home, I had somehow developed a false image of God and what following Him really meant. It was very much a “pick up your cross and sorrowfully plod your way through life” type of mentality.

This couldn’t be further from the truth.

When I read scripture with a new perspective, I discovered that God created life so that we might honor Him through joy, peace, love, and delight! In fact, John 10:10 promises us: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

To. The. Full.

Total abundance.

As I reflected on verses like John 10:10, I began to embrace new truths: God wanted me FREE! He wanted me JOYFUL! He wanted me to savor life to the FULL!

Suddenly the concepts of simply being and Sabbath rest were elements of FAITH, not practices for the idle and frivolous. Suddenly I was given permission to put worry, effort, anxiety, and control aside and embrace abundance.

As Christine Valters Paintner writes in A Different Kind of Fast, “we fool ourselves so easily into thinking that, if we only work hard enough, we will earn our freedom. But the practice of freedom comes now, in the midst of the demands of this world”.

Like Paintner, I invite you, to “reclaim the Sabbath” and “give yourself the gift of moments that are truly restorative—some time spent in silence, a beautiful meal shared with a friend, a long walk in a beautiful place, a nap. Sabbath-keeping…is a way for us to embody this profound trust and enter into the radical abundance at the heart of things”.

For Reflection:

As you contemplate your spiritual “after” in this area of life, consider these reflection questions written by Christine Valters Paintner, author of A Different Kind of Fast: Feeding our True Hungers in Lent.

1) How might you create some Sabbath time in your days or weeks?

2) What does a “store of energy” feel like for you?

3) Reflect on the things you give your heart to that are not satisfying. Ask God to help transform them.