Fretfulness                                                                             10/25/42

 

Scripture:  Psalm 37: 1-18

 

Text:  Psalm 37: 1    “Fret not thyself because of evil-doers”

 

Probably the word “fret” does not mean as much to us as some other word might.  It calls for a bit of defining if we are to deal with it for a while this morning.

 

My grandmother (one of them) was a woman who loved life as few do.  The homeliest little joys carried her buoyantly along.  When her camera succeeded in catching a particularly good resemblance, she was as pleased as a happy child.  She loved amateur photography to a point almost professional.  When her family returned, with their families, each year for Thanksgiving dinner, she radiated an elation that was caught by everyone present.  The simplest occurrences among the people of her little community caught her enthusiastic interest.  And her petty partisanships would fire the soul of an ancient knight!

 

But she was also fretful!  When a summer electrical storm approached, she would run hastily to the storm cellar and stay there until the last crack of thunder rolled in the distance.  In her later days, she would worry from the time she left her house in an automobile, until she got to the railroad tracks a half mile away, fearful that the driver could not stop the car in time, if a freight train should be passing by.

 

During many years of her young womanhood she denied herself many of the pleasures she loved because of her fear of horses.  Living 15 miles from the nearest village on a South Dakota frontier, and miles from the nearest neighbor in that thinly-settled region, few things gave her more pleasure than the occasional meeting of the neighbors in a “literary society” at the country school house, or the gathering of fellow worshippers at the little country church.  But so great was her timidity over horses, and so devastating her fear of what they could do to her if they took the notion, that she often failed of the necessary  bravery; and let her husband and daughters mount and ride away without her.  Grandfather only added to her terror.  For he began many a trip by taking his own spirited, and usually rebellious, horse to a strip of plowed ground, mounting the scamp, and then let the animal buck him until his own nose bled or until the horse had the evil out of its system for that day.

 

Grandmother was unable to do much about the transportation system for many years, except fret.  And it did not add to her years of life, nor to her usual happiness.

 

There is another kind of fretfulness against which we are warned in the Scripture.  The writer of the 37th Psalm begins it with the words, “Fret not thyself because of evil-doers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity.”  Only a little imagination is needed to understand what the Psalmist meant.

 

When one wastes life’s energies in merely chafing over the way in which evil-doers seem to “get away” with their deviltry, he is himself doing a wrong.  If, by his vote, he can change a political evil and elect a constructive candidate, that is different.  If, by his struggle, he can defeat a Hitler, fine!  If he will throw his soul and energies into building good will again, splendid!  Then his irritation is a part of movement and accomplishment.  Its only usefulness is as a spur to doing something effective.

 

The irritation that has no outlet except in complaint and bitterness is destructive.  It is this sort of fretfulness which the Psalmist seems to have in mind.

 

A man who lived in the neighborhood where I spent my childhood, had the unhappy faculty of keeping himself at odds, most of the time, with his neighbors.  When Frank, on some morning, passed by Mr. Wieting, or my father, or any one of a half dozen of his neighbors, looking stonily ahead and refusing to speak when spoken to, we all knew that Frank was “miffed” again.  Perhaps he was angered by an action of the school board, or by a move of the stockholders of the country telephone line, or by a disagreement over a fence line.  But whatever it might be, Frank wouldn’t be speaking again for months - or years.  He accomplished absolutely nothing by his tactics.  He denied himself the opportunity of even attempting cooperation.  He cut himself off from the precious sociability of a country community.  He made himself ridiculous in the eyes of others.  All he could do was “fret” and grow sour.  He didn’t even make a dent in the supposed “evils” of his neighbors.

 

I want to suggest, now, two or three homely things about fretfulness.  One is this; it is a sin.  “Sin” is an old-fashioned word for whatever is forever wrong.  And “fretting” comes under that heading.  There are many of us, including the fellow who is now speaking to you, who have occasion now and then to ask the forgiveness of the Almighty for this useless “chafing” of our emotions.  Fretfulness is a sin against ourselves - against our usefulness, our peace of mind, our ingeniousness and creativity.  It is the parent of bitterness, of harshness, of faultfinding.

 

There are two important moral observations for Christians to make on this present war.  One is this.  Aggressor governments have used frightful methods of reducing and keeping under control conquered peoples.  (Please observe that I said “governments,” not “nations.”  My sense of human kinship with all others who may wish to do right forbids my making a blanket indictment of the whole people of any nation or race.)  Aggressor governments have done some foul things.

 

If, and when, the tide shall turn in the fortunes of this war, those who have been denied any outlet for their emotions, while murder, rape, starvation, disease and despair have struck close to them, may attempt terrible revenge - the kind of blind, indiscriminate, hateful ruthlessness that is just as evil in them as it is in the other fellow.  Only the miracle of God’s grace, and what soberness man has left can prevent vengeance and horror.  And that miracle must come to pass if our world is to have even a glimmering hope of lasting peace.

 

We have no business fretting, or plotting revenge.  “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”  [Romans 12: 19].  There are far better, and vastly more important uses for our energies.

 

Fretfulness is a sin against others.  It sometimes robs a home of its happiness, ruptures a friendship, ruins the confidence of another.

 

It is a sin against the ways of God.  John Wesley once said, “I dare no more fret than curse and swear.  To have persons at my ears murmuring and fretting at everything, is like tearing the flesh from my bones.  By the grace of God, I am discontented at nothing.  I see God sitting on His throne, and ruling all things.”

 

Well, I hope he was able to live free from that kind of discontent.  (He had plenty of the kind of discontent that made him a powerful force for improvement in his country.)  And I think he had the right ideal.

 

Consider what a world of trouble can come to one small life through envy. Envy breeds covetousness.  And covetousness breeds trouble - sometimes in queer disguises.

 

The Psalmist reminds us, for instance, that “a little that a righteous man hath is better than the riches of many wicked.”  You and I might allow ourselves the evil indulgence of envy over what another has that we haven’t and want.  Even if we were to covet our neighbors possessions and grab some of it, the good that it seemed to represent would vanish.  For happiness can not be gained by seizing wealth or by taking what belongs to others.

 

This is not to say that poverty is desirable or that anyone ought to be expected to accept it, when surrounded with plenty.  But what a man possesses should be the just reward of his service to others - what they have willingly given to him in exchange for what he could give to them.

 

We can’t afford to fret over another man’s wealth, popularity, talents or achievements.  It is wrong to do so.  It blights ourselves and it demonstrates a lack of faith in God, whose way still directs the goodness of this universe.

 

One of Cromwell’s friends was said to be a “fretting” Christian (really a contradiction in terms!)  On an occasion when he was audibly chafing over something, a sensible servant of his said to him, “Master, don’t you think that God governed the world very well before you came into it?”  (Long and faithful service will sometimes give a servant more liberty than anyone else would dare take!)  Cromwell’s friend replied, “Yes, but why do you ask?”  “Master, don’t you think God will govern the world very well after you go out of it?”  “Of course, I do.”  “Well, then, can’t you trust him to govern it for the little while you are in it?”

Possibly a better faith in God would enable us Christians to be more Christian!

 

There are certain medicines that can be taken for this disease of fretfulness.  They are not exactly pills.  But they will usually help.

 

One is to look for the bright side of things.  This is no Pollyanna capsule to be taken three times a day like a patent medicine by everyone for everything.  But it is medicine “indicated” for the “fretters” who can always see the blackness of a cloud, anyway.

 

Do you spend too much time scanning the newspapers and fretting over the horrible mess into which the world has gotten?  God knows it is black enough.  But God also knows what, most of the time, we won’t see - that in the midst of all this avalanche of evil, God is still trying to shake man to his senses!  Justice struggle for fulfillment.  Brotherhood awaits only man’s decency.  The good of the future only awaits man’s repentance for his sins of the past.

 

If only Christian people will awaken, repent of the evils of race arrogance and misunderstanding, greed of possession and power, confidence in the almighty club - if Christians will repent of evils like these and from which none of us are entirely free; the future can be leavened as the bread of life, wherein is to be found righteousness and understanding and brotherhood and obedience to God’s goodness.

 

Last Sunday I mentioned to you that Robert Gammon has said to me more than once, as he has undoubtedly said to many another young fellow, “God is not dead.”

 

God is not dead.  God is forever alive.  Midst man’s cruelty, God is merciful.  Above man’s crass unfairness, greed and lust, God is still just.  Beyond wounded man’s inability to forget, God can and will forgive and heal.  Above man’s darkness, God is Light and understanding and hope and love.

 

Man needs only to get into the team under God’s harness in order to leave his little, fretful self behind in the great surge of real life.

 

[based on an outline by J. Scilley, Moody Monthly, July 1942]

 

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dates and places delivered:

 

            Wisconsin Rapids, October 25, 1942