“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
Philippians 4:8
Sometimes I feel guilty for thinking about good things.
Have you ever been there? Our lives–and our friends’ and families’ lives–are filled with such heavy things. Horrible, heart-breaking things are happening daily in our communities, in our country, and throughout the world. And yet sometimes, I catch myself letting my mind linger over pleasant things: flowers, sweet memories, dreams for the future. And I feel guilty.
At some point, I think I’ve taken on the mentality that so many people feel in seasons of grief, that to laugh or think of light things is to somehow betray the person or thing we’re grieving. As though we shouldn’t set aside our grief (or feel two things at once…) and find joy when there is sadness hanging over us.
As if, in order to be a responsible, caring Christian, worry should consume us.
But friends, worry isn’t work.
We do labor for those things, both in prayer and in action. We show up for those who are struggling, we sit with those who are grieving, we provide meals for those who are suffering. We bring every last one of them to God’s feet in prayer, and we intercede on their behalf. That’s the work that we do when times are dark and heavy. But not worry.
We weren’t meant to carry those burdens without ever setting them down. In fact, Jesus’ invitation–His admonition–is exactly the opposite. He tells us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28). Rest.
Right after that, Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:29-30). His burden is light because He shares the weight. Not because we don’t face hard things, but because those hard things aren’t ours to carry around.
Peter admonishes us to “Cast all your cares on him because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7). To hand off our worries, one by one–the very real, very dark, very hard things we’re carrying–and leave them with Him. Because He cares. He can act on behalf of those who are suffering. He can shoulder the burden of those cares.
I’m not in any way proposing that we stick our heads in the sand and live in some sort of escapist dream–quite the opposite! We’re called to “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” (Romans 12:15). But we don’t have to sit in perpetual ashes. We don’t have to fill our vision with the worst things of this life. We don’t have to carry weights that were never meant to be ours. Our part in this is to mourn and rejoice, to carry these burdens to God–and let God be God.
Paul goes even a step further. In Philippians, he outlines the same steps, giving instructions to “…not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7). That peace that “defies circumstances,” as some translations put it, is ours when we bring these things to God and leave them with Him.
Yet there’s still more.
In the next verse, Paul tells us what should fill our minds with instead: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8).
Good things, friends. Peaceful, joy-filled, lovely things.
Do you see the freedom there? Do you see the lightness, the rest in it?
Maybe, like me, you need permission. You need to be freed from the guilt of not carrying the weight of the world always on your shoulders. If so, here it is.
Rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. Sit with them in their grief, stand with them in their suffering. Meet their needs whenever you are able–and always, first and foremost, carry those needs to God with prayer and thanksgiving. That is the real work we do in dark times.
But then? Then leave them in God’s capable hands. We release our cares to Him and feel that weight lift from our shoulders–weight we were never meant to carry. We can fill our minds with good things, excellent things, praiseworthy things. They aren’t escapism or naivete. They’re the very things God wants us to fix our minds on–the things of Him.
Rest, friend, and let your mind linger in the places of light–and all the more when the world feels dark.
