
Worry is a cycle of inefficient thoughts whirling around a center of fear.
Corrie Ten Boom
“We should banish “what ifs” from the earth.”
My little sister recently said this to me, while wiping away tears from her cheeks. I agree with her.
I think some of our greatest battles are self-made because instead of simply obeying God’s voice…we ask “what if.” What begins as a small task turns into a huge one, not because God’s command grows bigger, but because our fears of the unknown grow bigger.
Of course, these are easy words to say and agree with. But this conversation with my sister really enlightened my eyes to the silliness of what-ifs, along with how quickly they overshadow our trust.
Before I continue, I want to just note that this article’s formatting will be a bit more story-like than usual. The lesson is embedded in that conversation with my sister—which requires some context. I promise to sum it all up by the end.
Loose Tooth Troubles
I had nearly finished cooking a dinner my siblings loved—an Indian curry with garlic naan—when I asked them to wash up and come to the table. My parents were out of town, celebrating their anniversary, which left me and my brother, Abijah, in charge of meals, cleaning, and Kenna, our ten-year-old sister.
After my siblings came to the table and we had prayed over the food, I noticed Kenna staring sadly at her plate. Suppressing a grin, I asked, “Do you not like this meal anymore?”
She sighed, rather dramatically. “No, I like this meal.”
“I won’t be mad if you don’t like it. I made it because I thought you liked it, but preferences change.”
One, slow tear trickled down her cheek and I immediately realized the issue went beyond her taste buds. I tried again, “Kenna, what’s actually wrong?”
She began to sob, “I have a loose tooth and it hurts to eat!”
The woes of childhood.
I glanced at Abijah who was also fighting back a giggle. Trying to remain serious, I replied, “I’m sorry, dear. Would you like me to pull it out for you?”
She began sobbing even more. “No because it already hurts. But if I leave it then it will hurt worse and I won’t be able to eat anything tomorrow or the next day or until it falls out. And then I will be hungry. So, do I want my tooth to hurt or my stomach?” She groaned. “It’s so complicated.”
And with that she melted into a puddle of tears, her face entirely soaked with her sorrows.
The Rabbit-Hole of “What Ifs”
After several minutes of Kenna crying and contemplating her options, she finally decided that she wanted her tooth pulled.
I don’t exactly know how it happened, but somewhere in the past seven years, I became our family’s “tooth-puller” and Abijah became the person whose hand was volunteered to squeeze if you needed it (he has the harder job, I think).
Anyways, we left the kitchen table in search of some cotton and plopped Kenna down on my parents’ bed so I could remove the tooth. Only, when I told her to open her mouth, she began to sob again.
“What if it hurts more when it’s gone? What if it’s not ready to come out? Or what if it breaks in two? What if I squeeze Abijah’s hand so hard that it turns red forever?”
With each “what if,” she began to cry harder until, at last, she was shaking nearly uncontrollably with her fears over one, little, wobbling tooth.
At first, Abijah and I talked it through gently, trying to soothe her fears. But with every second that passed, a new “what if” tumbled into her mind and spilled more tears over her cheeks.
Finally, I took her hands, looked her in the eyes, and said, “Kenna, you need to stop it.”
She sniffed, wiped at a tear, and gave me a rather offended look.
I continued. “Every time you say “what if,” you put a new fear on your chest that you do not need to carry right now. Do you see how each time you say those words, your body physically responds with fear and frustration? Right now, all you need to do is open your mouth. I’ll do the rest.”
Sometimes the Answer is to Just Stop
As I was talking to Kenna, I couldn’t help noticing the irony of how often I’ve heard God saying those same words to me: “Every time you say “what if,” you put a new fear on your chest that you do not need to carry. Right now, all you need to do is trust me. I’ll do the rest.”
I knew it even as I spoke the words to Kenna. I knew that there have been many times where I have been just as tearful, fearful, and silly as she was being in that moment. Just as human, really. And, often, in those moments, I have asked God why He wasn’t being more sympathetic or compassionate, why He wasn’t answering the questions.
In reality, He knows, just like I knew with Kenna, that answering “what ifs” doesn’t banish them. He knows that sometimes what we really need, is the firm, gentle command to just stop it. We need the stubborn, simple voice of God saying, “right now, all you need to do is trust me. That’s all. I’ll do the hard work…you just have to let me.”
We Should Banish “What Ifs” from the Earth
In the end, Kenna did open her mouth and let me remove the tooth. When it was over, I sat her down again and said, “I want you to know I wasn’t mad at you; I needed to be firm because your problem was tiny and your fears were huge. Now that it’s over I can tell you I’m proud of you for being brave and for trusting me even when you were scared.”
She sniffled and said, “I really was getting more scared when I thought about all the things that could happen. “What ifs” are dangerous! We should banish “what ifs” from the earth!”
I giggled when she said it, but my whole heart agreed with her.
We should banish “what ifs” from the earth.
At the very least, we should banish “what ifs” from our hearts.
Because, truthfully, we have all been just like Kenna before. We are all familiar with being given a simple task and, instead of obeying, letting the hesitations bind our heart and mind up in fears whose shadows loom as time goes on.
Just as Kenna, in her fear, forgot about all the teeth I have successfully pulled out, we, in our fear, forget about all the times God has proved Himself faithful in our lives.
In an instant, with one hesitation that leads to another hesitation, with one fear that starts small and grows bigger, a simple task of obedience becomes a mess of tears and sacrifice.
And it all starts with one question, one sliver of doubt instead of immediate obedience, one sly whisper peeking through the blinds of trust.
I think some of our greatest battles are self-made. Because instead of simply obeying…we ask “what if.”
To Banish “What Ifs” Just Trust and Obey
When I was a little girl, I had a lot of fears, especially due to some really dark nightmares I had. Every time I was afraid I would sing a song version of Psalm 56:3-4 which 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. What can flesh do to me?”
Most times, that song calmed my fears. Not always completely, but enough to remind me that God was near and I could trust Him. There’s a simplicity to childlike trust. As a little girl, I didn’t need to know how God would protect me from my fears or even whether or not He would make me face my fears…I just needed to know that I could trust Him with my fears.
Trust banishes “what ifs” and replaces them with “even if.”
It doesn’t fret over the potential that something could happen, but rests in the reality that even if something happens…God is trustworthy. Trust spurs bravery because it is totally secure, bound up in faithfulness, and willing to take the risks it must for obedience to be complete.
So what are the “what ifs” of your life? I have been thinking a lot about mine. I don’t have many right now, but I know if I don’t catch the small ones they’ll grow into giants that tempt my fear.
I’m taking my ten-year-old sister’s advice—I’m banishing “what ifs” from my heart, my mind, my soul. They don’t belong here anyway. All I want within me is the simple tune ever ringing with “trust and obey.”
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Great life lesson.
Such a simple truth, but a hard application. thank you for this!
“One sly whisper peeking through the blinds of trust.” What an apt image! I still remember you going around singing “When I am afraid, I will trust in God . . . .”. How precious for my young granddaughter to remind me of a truth my mother spoke in the shadows while sitting on my bed and holding my hand. Psalm 56 has walked with me down through the years in multiple ways because my sweet Lord knows how very susceptible I am to fear. I like how you remind the reader to stop those fears in their tracks by dwelling on Who is trustworthy. God’s faithfulness in the past is impetus to trust in the present–even if . . .
I love how you see the lessons from God in everyday moments and drive to apply them to your life. Thankful for the wisdom you had to help your sister through an ever growing mountain of fear. I’m proud of you