Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear… And which of you by worrying can add even one hour to his life? (Matthew 6:25-27),
I held the penny by its edge to cover up the sun. Then I moved it away from my eye until yellow streaks burst around the edges. My childhood game amused me because I could block the giant sun with a small coin.
Now I’m a grown-up soul, holding the penny of worry in front of my eye and lamenting, “Woe is me, the sun has gone dark.” Limited creature that I am, whatever is held before me consumes me. When some trial becomes the specimen of choice, it masks all view of the blinding goodness of the Lord. In reality, no matter how disastrous my trial appears, compared to Christ, it’s a little penny.
The words of Jesus solve my error of perception. He draws the penny away, saying, “Peace I leave with you…do not be afraid,” (Jn. 14:27).
I repeat that, until the sun blasts around the penny’s edge.
“I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls,” (Matt. 11:29).
Now the penny is looking small, the sun large.
“’Peace be with you…’ And with that he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit,’” (Jn. 20:21, 22).
I lower the obstruction and let my arms fall limp.
I falsely inflate my own importance, and therefore, the significance of my hurts. Looking at Jesus, I’m smitten with the reality that life is not about me or my pain. It’s about him—Jesus, bursting with light—Jesus, with love joy that leaves blind spots before my eyes—Jesus, the Commander of the universe, who sings me to sleep.
For now, I must keep the coin of suffering, but there’s no need to press it against my eye and block out the Son.
Prayer: Jesus, help me focus on you, not on trials.