Anxiety and Worry

When we were teenagers, my family didn’t have the land we now own, so we hunted wherever we could, typically on public land. You might say those were our Tom Sawyer days. During duck hunting season, my good friend Billy Red (who became the best man in my wedding years later) and I took off down the river about five miles to hunt. One day we headed out for an afternoon hunt at two o’clock, traveling in a small, twelve-foot aluminum boat outfitted with a 9.9 Mercury Motor. My parents had no idea where we were going, and neither did I. 

After the hunt, with the sun having almost set, we loaded up our gear to head home. One problem: the motor wouldn’t start. We tried again and again. That’s when the first tinge of anxiety spiked my heart. I mean, we had traveled by river, not by roads, so we couldn’t hitchhike back. Worse, I had no earthly idea where we were in relation to home.

Complicating our situation was the fact that we couldn’t paddle up the river because the current was too strong. Since this was before cell phones, we were completely cut off from civilization. It felt as though we were in a foreign land. Sure, we put on a brave face and talked a good game, but we both knew our predicament was becoming direr by the minute as the temperature dropped. In the darkness that surrounded us, our imaginations ran wild. Fear and anxiety weren’t far behind.

On the trip downriver, we had passed several old fishing camps. Billy suggested we walk the quarter-mile back to those camps in case someone was there. We did, but the place was abandoned. Another wave of anxiety hit us until we stumbled on a three-horsepower motor. We figured that even though that’s about as small a motor you can put on a boat, it was worth a try. We took it and a can of gas, leaving a note that said we’d bring ’em back. Then we carried them back to our boat, fired up that baby, and headed home . . . very slowly. That motor had barely enough power to push through the current. It took us six hours to take a trip that should have taken fifteen minutes.

King David, who knew a thing or two about being in a tight spot, said, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4). The reason David was so confident in the face of troubling situations was that he knew God was with him—just as He is here for you and me. Now when anxious thoughts threaten to overwhelm, I don’t panic. I do what David did: “I sought the Lord, and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears” (Psalm 34:4).

Taken from The Duck Commander Faith and Family Bible