Don’t Panic

I began writing this post way back in September just before my 42nd birthday. Those of you familiar with the science fiction novel “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” by Douglas Adams, will understand the significance of 42, which according to Adams is, “the answer to the question of life, the universe, and everything.” But what is the question? For me, it was never about the fear of “40.” I was glad to be 40 because I knew I would soon be 42. My nerdy heart swelled. But now I’ve been 42 for a few months, and I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about it.

“Don’t Panic!” is the very smart and friendly advice on the cover of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” Unfortunately, every situation main character Arthur Dent faces is a massive cause for panic. First his home is bulldozed to make way for a highway bypass, then he makes a narrow escape with his best friend (who turns out to be an alien) on a spaceship full of their enemies who destroy earth, ironically, to make way for a hyperspace bypass. Armed with a towel and the Hitchhiker’s Guide, they trek across the universe in search of the answer to the question of life, the universe, and everything.

My current situation is that a bulldozer is preparing to knock down my house, not my literal house, but there is a part of my life that will soon be a heap of rubble. There is fear. What will I do with all this space? There is sadness. Will I miss it when it’s gone? There is panic. What’s next?

Even better than Douglas Adams’ “Don’t Panic” advice is the comfort of Jesus found in Matthew 6:25-34, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”

I want to wrap these Matthew 6 words of Jesus around my neck like a towel. “A towel, [The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy] says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.”

Like the towel, the comfort of Christ in the word of God has great practical value. It warms me to know I’m not alone in the cold vastness of space, as Jesus said in Matthew 28:20, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” I can lie down on it, as Jesus says in Matthew 11:28, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” I can sleep under it as Psalm 4:8 says, “In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.” It is both my sword and shield as Ephesians 6:16-17 says, “In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one… and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God…” In emergencies and distress, Psalm 56:3-4 says, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid…” The difference between God’s word and a towel is that God’s word is always clean, and it makes me clean. Isaiah 1:18 says, “Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.”

So my “house” may be bulldozed but at least I know where my “towel” is. 2020 will be a year of transition and I plan to take it a day at a time, just like Jesus encouraged, in Matthew 6:34, “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” 

As I transition this blog will probably become more of a chronicle of my journey and creative process. This year to develop a daily writing habit I’m taking part in the BXP2020 writing challenge. The goal is 200 words a day for a year but the reward is building a healthy writing lifestyle. So far I’ve written every day. Do you have a book in you? Have you always wanted to write but didn’t know where to begin? By the end of 2020 you could have that book you’ve been meaning to write. You can read more about it at The Bestseller Experiment 2020 Challenge. Let me know if you sign up, I’d love to be your accountability buddy! You can email me at curatedfaith@gmail.com or message me through the Curated Faith Facebook Page.

Cheers! To 2020, and may you always know where your “towel” is.