I am doing better now, but last week I wasn’t much of an advertisement for how to live during Lent.  I
make hundreds of decisions a day, and I made a regrettable decision on March 5, Ash Wednesday.  Ash
Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, the 40-day period before Easter during which time the faithful
remember that they are dust and to dust they will return.

    At 5:30 am on Ash Wednesday, my Bible lay open to Psalm 51.  Using the Book of Common
Prayer, I turned to the first readings of the Lenten season.  I was happy to be joining believers worldwide,
soberly reviewing my life through prayer, repentance, fasting, abstaining from certain foods and giving
generously to those in need.

    Things went along fine for about 30 seconds.  Suddenly I fired up my computer and checked the news.
Why would I do that first, you asked?  Why indeed?  My Bible was open.  The readings were chosen.
This was the Apostle Paul’s question, too.  His answer in Romans 7:  “Oh wretched man that I am!  I do
the very thing I do not want to do.”  I understand.

    Indeed, I was instantly captured, totally frozen to the screen by my high-speed connection.  In a few
seconds I was transfixed.  CNN’s homepage riveted my imagination, compelling me to read this story and
that one, linking me to this editorial and that political cartoon.  I read the New York Times.  I read and
frowned and rubbed my forehead as I viewed pictures of war ships and powerful jets loaded with bombs.

    Mostly I just worried.  It was now after 6 a.m. and I had yet to start the Lenten readings.  By then a
palpable sense of dread had pushed me deeply into my own tiny shell.   Don’t you just imagine that my
worrying and fretting indisputably changed the minds of government officials around the world?

    I finally made it to Psalm 51.  By then I wasn’t in much of a mood to read the Bible.  Nevertheless,
I glanced down and read:  “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your
great compassion blot out my transgressions.  Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.”

    Frankly, by this point I was pretty frustrated at myself. I had committed time for early morning
reflection.  Instead, I spent much of the time that first morning of Lent scouring the news, worrying about
North Korea and the Middle East and the United Nations.  Not being a very discriminating fretter, I even
spent a few minutes worrying about my car that wouldn’t start.

    Happily, I can report that in the last few days my computer has stayed off until my Lenten readings
are done.  Earlier this week one reading took me to Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount where he
informs his hearers:  “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will
wear.”

    Take that, Mr. Worry-Wart News Junkie.  Guilty as charged.  I do not argue with Jesus about
those words.  But yes, I have wondered sometimes if they are realistic.  Occasionally, I have worried about
tomorrow.  What if I get laid off?  Get sick?  Don’t have enough to provide for my children?  And it often
has occurred to me that my foolhardy worrying is a sinful luxury of a very affluent society.

    Good grief, look at me.  I have health insurance and homeowners insurance and dental insurance
and car insurance on three cars and boxes of Girl Scout cookies stacked high in my cupboards.  My
worrying is a comfort that most people in the world with no insurance have never been afforded.

     Truthfully, all “what if” questions really are a waste of time.  For me, those questions forget that my
needs always have been met in the past and that I have enough for today – way too much, frankly.  And
while I plan for the future, Jesus was clear that worrying about the future is futile.

    At least Jesus humors us by saying that if we insist on worrying we should worry about today.
Heavens, innumerable things can wrong in the next hour.

In the next hour, and I hope throughout the remaining weeks of Lent, I will remember that my life on earth
will one day end.  I will ponder the prayer in Psalm 90, remembering that my Creator will allow even this
over-fed news junkie to return to the dust from which he came.

Don Follis is an Urbana pastor and member of Vineyard Christian Fellowship in Urbana, Ill.  His column
appears on Fridays.  Copyright © 2003 by the Champaign-Urbana News-Gazette.