Do Not Worry
Sunday 8 February 2026
‘Do not worry’
Precentor, Canon Anna Macham
Romans 8:18-25 and Matthew 6:25-end
“Do not worry”. This is a bold message from Jesus in our Gospel reading this morning. And definitely, in my experience, one that’s easier said than done. Although I like to think I’m better at not worrying than I used to be as I get older, I fear that may not actually be true. Despite being incredibly fortunate and statistically unusual, in that I don’t have to worry about the basic necessities of life – I have more than enough to eat and drink and clothe myself, to quote the reading – that doesn’t seem to stop me waking up periodically in the middle of night stricken with anxiety about some situation that usually doesn’t turn out to be anything like as bad as I’d feared.
So far in this new year, there is a huge amount to worry about in the wider world, and closer to home as well. This week, I like many of you I am sure, have been shocked by the revelations about the depth of the relationship between the former business secretary Peter Mandelson and the child sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. It’s hard to countenance that this close friendship was already known about on some level when the decision was taken to appoint Mandelson as U.S. ambassador barely a year ago. It’s very hard to imagine how survivors of sexual violence – of any sexual violence, not just Epstein’s victims – must feel to see the evidence coming out of Mandelson and others glossing over what Epstein did and continuing to be friendly with him after his convictions, and the connection with Epstein apparently being minimised by the Prime Minister who, given his previous career, we might have expected to have acted differently. Had the female survivors who came forward been listened to, this situation would not have happened. The feeling of deep concern that it could, and has, and the level of hurt and sense of betrayal of trust involved, is something that’s been very evident over the last few days.
When Jesus says “Do not worry,” this doesn’t mean we should just block out our worries and concerns or try and pretend they’re not there. It’s natural to worry, if someone close to us is ill or in trouble or distress, or if something happens in the world or society around us that worries us or shakes us to the core. It would be easy not to worry about things if we didn’t care about them. We wouldn’t be human, empathetic beings if we didn’t. Later in this Gospel, Jesus commands us to love our neighbour, and that has to include being concerned for our neighbour’s good. Worry, when looked at in this way, is a manifestation of love.
And if the injunction not to worry isn’t about trying to blank out or forget about worrying people or situations, cultivating apathy about them, neither is it about denying responsibility. Considering the lilies of the field doesn’t mean passively sitting around waiting for God to act. This ignores the active character of the call to follow Christ. To be a disciple is a call to take part in the redeeming work of God, who is reconciling all things to himself. Or, as Jesus puts it here, to seek first the kingdom.
In the passage immediately before our Gospel reading this morning, in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus has just spoken about wealth: “do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth… no one can serve two masters… You cannot serve God and wealth.” Instead of hoarding up our riches for ourselves, Jesus reminds us to see all that we have received as not our own, and to serve only one Master. As a way of life, this looks quite insecure: no savings as a fallback in time of need, or as a protection against the future, but instead a gratitude for, and reliance on, God’s abundance. Seeking first the kingdom of God is about recognising that all things come from God – and being generous as a result. This isn’t a way of life that will make us rich and successful. It certainly won’t free us from worry and need. But what Jesus is saying is that allowing the fullness of God’s promises to shape our lives will make possible a different attitude towards the future.
Too often we determine that our future must be made secure by various means – by our reputation, or achievement, or wealth; by status, or health or relationships. Our treasure comes in different guises. All too often, we find then that these have become the driving force in our lives, as we try to create the future we think will shield us from pain, suffering, failure and even from death. An extreme version of this is presumably what motivates some individuals with excessive power and wealth – in a cycle in which the need – and greed – for more makes possible acts of extreme cruelty and to them, if they even think about it, justifies the exploitation people weaker and more vulnerable than they are.
In such a climate, it’s easy to become cynical or lacking in trust. But today’s reading exhorts us to seek first the kingdom of God. Allowing the fullness of God’s promise to shape our lives now means that – despite signs of the opposite in the present – our attitude towards the future becomes one of gratitude and trust. Jesus teaches his disciples to hold lightly all they count as treasures, because he teaches them to see all things as a gift. Trying to live this way frees us to be generous, working in partnership with God and with each other, and even with the earth itself. In our reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans, it’s not just humans who receive this divine abundance but the whole of creation that longs for a future time – of God’s kingdom of goodness, generosity and justice – to be present and realised in our world now.
To see everything as a gift is to understand that God has given everything to us. Our call, as disciples of Jesus, is to join together in returning everything to him, including even our worry. This is because to live from the perspective of the kingdom – and to seek that first – transforms our worry. It invites an attitude of trust and peace, of mutuality and gratitude, calling forth love in response to the love that has been so abundantly given to us.
Of course, it’s easy to say that. One of the things that helps me to worry less is to realise my limitations, and to know that the situation I’m worrying about usually isn’t something I have to face on my own. Somehow reaching the end of my own abilities – at least sometimes – helps me to trust more that, whatever happens, God is present, and everything will ultimately be ok, even if it isn’t now.
And, as it’s important to remind ourselves this week, seeking first the kingdom of God means turning our worry for the disturbing things in our society and world that trouble us into concern. Our worry is an incentive to press for change, and to work together, men and women, girls and boys, to make our churches and our families, our communities and our streets, places of safety and of trust. Our worry should make us respond to those who haven’t been listened to, who haven’t been heard, by being generous with what we have, giving our time and attention, and – however we can – sharing the abundance of what we have with those who need it.
“Do not worry about your life,” says Jesus. This is not the impossible ideal it initially seems, but an invitation. And so as we offer to God the bread and the wine in this Eucharist, let us also try giving our worries to him and see how in all our brokenness his kingdom can start to become real.