Anxiety is Atheism in Seed Form Text: Luke 12:22-34
Introduction: The Tyranny of the Tummy
We live in an age of manufactured panic. Our entire economy, our news cycles, and our political discourse seem engineered to keep our stomachs in a perpetual knot. We have insurance for our insurance, and we have backup plans for our backup plans. We are the most prosperous people to ever walk the earth, and simultaneously the most anxious. We have conquered countless diseases and famines, yet we are consumed with worry about what we will eat, what we will drink, and what we will wear. We have traded the fear of God for the fear of everything else.
Into this churning sea of modern anxiety, the words of Jesus land like a cannonball. He does not offer us a five-step program for stress management or some breathing exercises. He issues a command, a direct, unequivocal imperative: "Do not worry." And we must understand that for Jesus, worry is not a psychological quirk or a personality flaw. It is a profound spiritual problem. It is a form of functional atheism. To worry is to declare, with your actions and your churning gut, that you are an orphan, that there is no Father in heaven, or that if there is, He is either incompetent or malevolent. It is to slander the character of God.
This passage is a frontal assault on the idol of self-sufficiency. It is a call to a radical, childlike dependence on a Father who is both infinitely capable and infinitely good. Jesus is going to dismantle our anxieties with unassailable logic, with illustrations from the birds and the flowers, and He will conclude by showing us that the only true antidote to worry is a radical reorientation of our entire lives around a different treasure and a different kingdom.
The Text
And He said to His disciples, “For this reason I say to you, do not worry about your life, as to what you will eat; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds! And which of you by worrying can add a single cubit to his life span? Therefore, if you cannot do even a very little thing, why do you worry about other matters? Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, but I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass in the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, how much more will He clothe you? You of little faith! And do not seek what you will eat and what you will drink, and do not keep worrying. For all these things the nations of the world eagerly seek, but your Father knows that you need these things. But seek His kingdom, and these things will be added to you. Do not fear, little flock, for your Father is well pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give it as charity; make yourselves money belts which do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near nor moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
(Luke 12:22-34 LSB)
The Divine Command and Its Reason (v. 22-23)
Jesus begins with the central command, grounded in a fundamental truth about reality.
"And He said to His disciples, 'For this reason I say to you, do not worry about your life, as to what you will eat; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.'" (Luke 12:22-23 LSB)
The command is blunt: "Do not worry." This is in the present imperative, meaning "stop worrying" or "do not have the habit of worrying." This is not a suggestion for a more relaxed lifestyle; it is a military order from our commanding officer. The reason is profound. "Life is more than food, and the body more than clothing." To be consumed with worry about the maintenance of a thing is to have a shrunken, pathetic view of the thing itself. If you owned a masterpiece painting, would you spend all your time worrying about the frame? If you were given a great library, would you obsess over the shelving?
God gave you life. He gave you a body. The God who is powerful enough to perform the greater miracle, that of giving life itself, is certainly capable of performing the lesser miracle, that of sustaining it. To worry about food is to insult the Giver of life. To fret about clothing is to distrust the Creator of the body. Worry is a failure of logic. It elevates the lesser over the greater and demonstrates that we have forgotten the Giver in our obsession with the gifts.
Lessons from the Birds and the Flowers (v. 24-28)
Jesus then marshals creation itself to testify against our unbelief. He gives us two arguments from the lesser to the greater.
"Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds! And which of you by worrying can add a single cubit to his life span? Therefore, if you cannot do even a very little thing, why do you worry about other matters?" (Luke 12:24-26 LSB)
First, consider the ravens. These are not cute little robins; they were unclean birds according to Levitical law. They are the picture of helpless dependence. They have no agricultural program, no financial plan, no barns. And yet, God feeds them. The logic is irrefutable. If God provides daily bread for unclean birds, will He not provide for His own sons and daughters, whom He created in His image? To worry is to believe that you are less valuable to God than a raven.
Then Jesus exposes the utter futility of worry. "Which of you by worrying can add a single cubit to his life span?" Worry is impotence pretending to be productive. It accomplishes nothing. It is stewing in your own juices. It cannot make you taller, it cannot make you live longer, it cannot change the weather. If you cannot do something as small as adding an hour to your life, why do you vex yourself with all the other things that are far outside your control? Worry is not just sinful; it is stupid.
Next, the lilies.
"Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, but I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass in the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, how much more will He clothe you? You of little faith!" (Luke 12:27-28 LSB)
The argument is parallel. The lilies do not labor, yet their beauty, a direct result of God's creative hand, outshines the wealthiest, most glorious king in Israel's history. God lavishes this artistry on a flower that is here today and used as fuel tomorrow. It is disposable glory. If God takes such care in clothing what is temporary, how much more will He care for His eternal children? The conclusion is a sharp but loving rebuke: "You of little faith!" Jesus puts His finger directly on the source of the sickness. Worry is not an issue of circumstances; it is an issue of faith. It is a refusal to take God at His word.
The Pagan Mindset vs. The Father's Care (v. 29-32)
Jesus now draws a sharp distinction between the mindset of the world and the mindset of the believer.
"And do not seek what you will eat and what you will drink, and do not keep worrying. For all these things the nations of the world eagerly seek, but your Father knows that you need these things." (Luke 12:29-30 LSB)
To be consumed with the pursuit of material provision is to live like a pagan. The "nations of the world," those outside the covenant, those who do not know God as Father, this is their chief occupation. They live as functional orphans in the universe, and so they must scramble and claw for their own security. For a Christian to adopt this mindset is to engage in a grotesque contradiction. It is to live as though you have no Father.
The foundational truth that shatters this pagan anxiety is this: "but your Father knows that you need these things." This is the bedrock of Christian security. Our Father is not ignorant of our needs, nor is He indifferent to them. He is omniscient and He is good. Our worry is therefore a direct insult to both His knowledge and His love. It is telling God that we don't trust Him to be a good Father.
So, what is the alternative?
"But seek His kingdom, and these things will be added to you. Do not fear, little flock, for your Father is well pleased to give you the kingdom." (Luke 12:31-32 LSB)
You cannot defeat a lesser passion by creating a vacuum. You must overwhelm it with a greater one. The cure for worrying about your little kingdom of stuff is to become consumed with seeking God's great kingdom. Pour all that energy you waste on fretting into advancing the reign and rule of Jesus Christ in your own heart, in your family, in your church, and in the world. Make His agenda your agenda. And the promise is that when you are on His mission, He will handle your logistics. "These things will be added to you." God funds His own projects.
Then comes one of the most tender phrases in the Gospels: "Do not fear, little flock." Jesus acknowledges our weakness, our smallness, our vulnerability. We are just a flock of sheep. But our security is not in our strength, but in our Shepherd's delight. "For your Father is well pleased to give you the kingdom." God is not a reluctant giver. He is not a stingy benefactor. It is His good pleasure, His joy, to bestow upon His beloved children the unimaginable inheritance of the kingdom.
Where Your Treasure Is (v. 33-34)
This teaching is not an abstract principle for mental assent. It has radical, concrete, financial implications.
"Sell your possessions and give it as charity; make yourselves money belts which do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near nor moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Luke 12:33-34 LSB)
This is the acid test. If you truly believe you have a Father who will provide for you, and that your true inheritance is the kingdom, then your white-knuckled grip on your earthly possessions will relax. A life free from worry is a life characterized by radical generosity. The worried man hoards; the man of faith gives. Jesus tells us to invest in a different kind of bank, to use a different currency. Earthly treasures are subject to theft and decay. The stock market crashes, rust and moths corrupt, and thieves break in and steal. But treasure invested in the kingdom, through generosity to the poor and support of the gospel, is perfectly secure.
And here is the diagnostic tool that lays our hearts bare: "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." This is an immutable law of the spiritual life. Do you want to know what you truly love? Look at your bank statement. Your heart will always follow your treasure. If you invest everything in this world, your heart will be stuck here, rotting along with your possessions. If you want your heart to be set on things above, on the kingdom of God, then you must send your treasure on ahead. You must invest in eternity. This is not about earning salvation; it is about demonstrating where your faith, your hope, and your love truly reside.
The command to not worry is therefore a command to re-center our entire existence. It is a call to abandon the frantic, atheistic pursuit of earthly security and to throw ourselves with abandon into seeking the kingdom of our Father, trusting that He who clothes the lilies and feeds the ravens will most certainly take care of His little flock, to whom He has joyfully promised everything.