By Andrew R. Duckworth
A great portion of my day is spent pondering how the world will be tomorrow. Not a year from now, not a week, but tomorrow. Perhaps this is a result of my own anxieties, but these anxieties are exacerbated by the current climate of… well… everything. It isn’t as if these anxieties are unfounded.
One of the things I have always absolutely despised are those who will dismiss anxieties or attempt to minimize them, as if, just by this very action, the anxieties will flee as if Christ himself swept them away. Ironically, most of the self-proclaimed “Christians” who adopt this attitude are the least like Christ. They have memorized scripture at the ready for occasions that often have little to do with their selected scripture, contextually. Yet, they embrace a role of “healer” and start “healing” without ever having stepped foot in the clinic. Most of them have a very poor understanding of scripture, apart from their own interpretive study of it, ignoring theologians, history, context, etc. Such is the folly of those who are all too eager to speak, yet fail to lend a listening ear.
Don’t mistake me. I am not broad-blanketing Christianity here. I myself am a Christian. But if one cannot see the flaws in one’s own systems, particularly the church body, how can one ever hope to take it seriously or fix the problem? A better question: how can anyone then be upset when others criticize? Perhaps, at this moment, some of our best friends should be our biggest critics. There is a lot to be learned from criticism. As a writer, I’ve long understood the need for constructive criticism. Although not all criticism is particularly constructive, even the harsh critique can be valuable. It, at the very least, allows one to know from where the opposing side comes.
As previously mentioned, before the small diatribe, this moment has brought anxiety. It isn’t just me. Plenty of people suffer from anxiety currently, even those who may not have had much of an issue with it in the past. Wars and rumors of wars… here we are… That’s my apocalyptic brain coming into play.
I tend to view the world in multiple ways. Prophecy is one of those ways, through a prophetic lens. And how can I not? If I’m to take the scripture seriously, I’m to look for the signs of the time of lawlessness. And, it seems, everywhere I look, I find it. It’s possible that I find it because I’m looking for it, finding patterns even by forcing them. After all, the world has been plunged into chaos plenty of times before. As I’ve noted in other writings, this time feels different. The pieces are laid out as they need to be. That is what was missing before. The technology is such that a global system of governance doesn’t sound so farfetched.
I also look at this time having read plenty of history, knowing where certain actions always lead. What I can’t do is put myself in the shoes of those of other nations with their own cultures, histories, etc. It is impossible. I can assume, but I haven’t lived such experiences. Such is needed to truly understand.
The thought of what happens next is often too prevalent. Unfortunately, such questions tend to leave the current moment behind. We are all too concerned about the next problem. A part of this is programming—a world full of distractions that will strip the mind away from what is happening. Yet, it seems as though if this is the most important question—what comes next?—we do a very poor job of preparing for it if we constantly take our mind away from the current moment.
Adequate understanding and preparation comes through analysis. If we are too distracted to analyze the moment, we will never be able to withstand the next problem that arises. And then, we will find ourselves in the same cycle in which we are currently captured, leaping over the current goings on to rush to the next thing.
Unfortunately, anxiety brings us to that question of “what next?” and forces us to contend with it with little preparation. And the little preparation for the next thing causes anxiety. It is a vicious cycle after all. Once caught in it, you’re presented the choice of staying in the anxious state or shedding it off to deal with the problem. But how does one do that? There isn’t an easy answer and it will be different for each individual. As someone who hasn’t completely shed my own anxiety, I won’t begin to propose solutions. I have none. I only have the problems and the context surrounding them. But I do know that the answer lies in the moments we have, our present moments. If we can shed our distractions and learn to be more present, perhaps better answers will come.