Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?
-Matthew 6:25

How many times have I glibly and matter-of-factly recommend the above verse to people in the throes of worry? Too many to count, I think. It's just so easy to say and it rolls out of the mouth so smoothly. The Bible says do not worry, brother. Sure.

Well, I could have used my own advice this past week. After quitting my job and getting rid of everything we owned, my wife, children and I crammed into the van and headed from Seattle to San Diego/Tijuana to plant a church and minister to the lost and suffering...on faith. No, there was no house or job to go to; just the knowledge of God's will to go.

The first day was great; we were all glowing with bright-eyed anticipation, solidarity and steadfastness of purpose. You could make a giant sculpture out of all the raw enthusiasm hanging in the air...a really cool one.

The road was friendly. Everything was going according to plan. That is, until we arrived in San Diego.

Morning after morning, we forced ourselves from various and assorted cramped hotel rooms to find a place to live and, each night, we would retreat defeated. As our money, clean clothes, patience and confidence dwindled, worry began to scratch at my exhausted mind. The "what if" scenarios began to pile up:

What if we cant find a place to live?
What if we run out of cash?
What if we end up living on the street with the people we came to help?

Eventually, I let worry master me. I became desperate to find somewhere...anywhere to live. Every bug-infested hovel we encountered became the "right place". I was a jittery, cranky, unbearable, fingernail-less mess.

At the end of our wits and finances, we found a house in Imperial Beach, the town where we feel God called us; a small two bedroom house behind the owners house. It had no stove and it smelled of cat-urine. It was miserable...and I desperately sought to move in. Of course, my wife desperately sought to stay away from this place. We argued about it with great fervor.

Sometime later, we both privately gave in to God. Defeated, I let my worry and desperation go, reclaiming my faith in God's promise and she accepted the possibility that God just might want us to live in a rat-hole for a while. We both resigned.

Well, the next day, on a whim, we decided to take a look at a neighborhood that we had already combed thoroughly. We found a sign for a two bedroom house. I called the number and left a message. Homeless and happy in the hands of God, we resolved to enjoy the day.

That's when she called. We met the owner at the house. A wonderfully pleasant and seasoned woman opened the door and beckoned us in. We could not be prepared for what we saw. It was an immaculately maintained, fully furnished, remodeled, private, spacious two bedroom house exactly one block from the beach and 2.7 miles from the mexican border. Additionally, she only wanted first month's rent to move in; no deposit, no last month's rent, no credit check, no sideways looks from property management people trying to find a way to say that we don't qualify or that our dog is not welcome. She wasn't even concerned about employment. We were floored.

When we asked if we could do a little gardening, she said "Of course you can. It is your home and I want you to be here because it was meant for you." That, my friends, is my God in action.

The way of the worrier is laden with doubt and strife, causing us to settle for less that what God promised.

Conversely, the way of the warrior is paved with the lighted bricks of faith leading us to places we could never find on our own.

The next time I tell someone not to worry, I will speak each word with a healthy respect for their practical difficulty and a reverence for their true implication.

-T. Michael Cart
Imperial Beach, CA