As we come to the end of Matthew 6, Jesus addresses a universal struggle—our preoccupations. What consumes your mind when you are at rest? For many, it is anxiety about daily needs: food, clothing, and the future. But if we live only at that level, we reduce ourselves to material creatures, forgetting that we are made in the image of God. Survival is necessary, but it is not our purpose. We were created for more.
Scripture calls us to steward our bodies faithfully, but when concern becomes anxiety, we have lost perspective. Jesus points out that worry is incompatible with faith. If God has given us life and bodies—gifts we did not create—will He not also provide what sustains them? And if He cares for birds and flowers, fleeting though they are, will He not care for us, His children? His words are both challenging and compassionate: “O you of little faith.”
Some misread Jesus’ teaching as a call to passivity. But the birds He mentions search for food, and the flowers draw life through intricate processes. God provides through means. Work, therefore, is not opposed to faith—it is one of God’s chosen instruments. Paul tells the Ephesians that labor allows us not only to provide for ourselves but also to share with those in need (Ephesians 4:28). Similarly, he reminds the Thessalonians that those unwilling to work should not eat (2 Thessalonians 3:10). We are stewards of the gifts, aptitudes, and opportunities God entrusts to us.
The balance lies between extremes. Some live as if everything depends on them, and they are crushed by anxiety. Others lapse into passivity, assuming God will provide without their participation. The biblical vision is synergy: we work diligently, but we trust God with the outcome. The farmer illustrates this balance—he prepares the soil, plants, and cultivates, but he cannot guarantee growth or prevent drought. In the end, he depends on God.
The same principle applies to spiritual life. We cannot make ourselves grow spiritually, but we can create conditions for growth. Through prayer, Scripture, and practices of solitude, we cultivate the soil of our souls. God alone gives the increase, but He invites us to participate in the process.
Jesus also reminds us that we are not exempt from responsibility for others. The early church collected offerings not for buildings but to care for believers in need, even sending aid to distant congregations suffering famine. We too are called to be mediators of God’s provision, extending His generosity to others. Yet we must never confuse the channel with the Source. People may serve as instruments of God’s love, but He alone is our ultimate security.
Nor are we exempt from trouble. “Each day has enough trouble of its own,” Jesus warns (Matthew 6:34). To imagine otherwise is to court disappointment. This world is broken, and suffering is inevitable. Jesus Himself said, “In the world you will have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Trouble is unavoidable, but worry is optional.
Even our suffering is within the orbit of God’s care. Not a sparrow falls apart from the Father’s knowledge (Matthew 10:29). He may permit trials, but always with purpose. He is more concerned with our character than our comfort, and He uses adversity to refine us. These are not courses we would choose, but they are essential for our training in righteousness.
Peter makes this clear: “After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace…will Himself perfect, confirm, strengthen and establish you” (1 Peter 5:10). Trials are temporary but purposeful, producing Christlike character that endures forever. Paul describes affliction as “momentary” and “light” compared with the “eternal weight of glory” it produces (2 Corinthians 4:17). James echoes the same truth: the testing of faith produces endurance, leading to maturity (James 1:2–4).
We may not always understand why some suffer more than others. The only answer we can give is grace. Life itself is gift, and every blessing is undeserved. God’s purposes may be hidden, but His love is sure.
Our greatest rewards will not be measured in possessions or recognition but in people—those whose lives we have touched for eternity. Paul calls the Thessalonians his “glory and joy” at Christ’s coming (1 Thessalonians 2:19–20). Many of the deeds we consider great may fade, while hidden acts of kindness and service may shine in God’s eyes. Nothing done for Christ is wasted.
So what does this mean for us? First, we are not exempt from work. Second, we are not exempt from responsibility for others. Third, we are not exempt from trouble. But in all these things, we are freed from the tyranny of worry. Trouble is real; worry is wasted. Most of what we fear never comes to pass, and even when hardship comes, God is weaving it into His eternal purposes.
Instead of asking “Why me?” in grumbling, let us ask, “What do You want me to learn?”—the why of guidance. And let us not forget the why of gratitude: “Why have You been so good to me?” These three perspectives—guidance, gratitude, and growth—lift us above complaint and anchor us in God’s grace.
- S. Lewis compared our lives to a living painting. God, the Artist, scrapes and reshapes us, and the process is painful. Left to ourselves, we would settle for being simple sketches. But God insists on making us His masterpiece, a work that will display His glory for all eternity.
When we ask Him to stop, we are really asking Him to love us less. But His love will not settle for less than our eternal best. He is committed to perfecting us, and His purposes will prevail.
Therefore, let us release worry, embrace His refining work, and trust His provision. Our afflictions are temporary, but the character they produce, the glory they yield, and the relationships they shape will endure forever.
To explore the Sermon on the Mount more deeply and discover how to thoughtfully answer the questions below, subscribe to Ken Boa Reflections on Substack.
Questions for Reflection
- What preoccupies your thoughts when you are at rest? When your mind is in “neutral,” do your concerns drift toward temporary needs and anxieties, or toward God’s eternal purposes for your life?
- How do you balance diligence and trust? Like the farmer who works hard yet depends on God for the harvest, are you cultivating a rhythm of faithful effort while resting in God’s sovereignty over the outcome?
- How do you respond to life’s inevitable troubles? Do trials lead you into worry and complaint, or do they become opportunities to seek God’s guidance and trust His refining work in shaping your character?
- Where do you place your ultimate security? Do you look to people, possessions, or performance to satisfy your longing for significance, or are you learning to root your identity and confidence in God as your true Source?
