Tomorrow Isn’t Yours

My patience with woo-woo¹ stuff evaporated during my younger days in the Pacific Northwest, where fringe beliefs propagate like mushrooms in a rainforest. An example: I partly paid for my education working in disaster restoration, and one woman—who had spilled bleach on the carpet in her rental apartment—watched me intently as I dyed the damaged spot. “I read auras,” she told me after a few moments, and then proceeded to describe the invisible colors supposedly emanating from my head. 

These kinds of people were uncomfortably commonplace in that part of the world, so you’ll understand if I was a bit dismissive of New Age practitioners. In spite of a concerted effort not to, I couldn’t help myself: I laughed out loud, clearly offending her.

But my disdain aside, I should point out that not every New Age practice is completely without merit—at least when it comes to those that have been stolen and reinterpreted by non-Abrahamic religions. Sometimes perfectly good ideas have been stolen and reworked by others.

Consider the case of mindfulness, a practice that teaches people to live in the present in an effort to conquer the problem of anxiety. A lot of anxiety, some have rightly observed, is anchored in our fear about the future; it robs us of enjoying the present. Likewise, sometimes depression can be triggered by regret about the past. The future doesn’t belong to you, and the past is never coming back—so learning to exist in the present can be a powerful remedy for both depressing regret and anticipatory anxiety. But the basic concept of mindfulness has been so muddied by New Age teachings that most of the time the way it is now practiced is simply not appropriate for Christians. We are well advised to avoid the Eastern mystical version, especially as it has been understood in the West in the latter half of the twentieth century.

Yet mindfulness itself, as a basic concept—especially when cleanly divorced from current non-Christian practices—is not entirely antibiblical. Notice that Jesus teaches something similar:

“Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matt. 6:31-34).

That could be considered a perfectly legitimate form of mindfulness for Christians. Perhaps we need to drop the word “mindfulness” to distinguish it from the non-Christian practice, but it is nonetheless available to us. There is incredible peace of mind to be found when we simply stop borrowing trouble from the future.

One of the most powerful tools you can use to stop crippling anxiety is simply to return to the present—the only thing you actually possess at this moment.

“Are you not of more value than they?” Jesus asks (verse 26). 

Listen to the words of the wise man: “Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth” (Prov. 27:1). James echoes the thought:

I’ll admit: I haven’t entirely conquered this problem in my own life. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve achieved lifetime Diamond status when it comes to worrying. My mind clamps on to worry like a pitbull on a cat burglar—and to some extent, that has served me well: I like to anticipate what’s coming and be prepared for it. James acknowledges that thinking about the future is a normal activity, so I’ve checked that box. But then he adds an all-important disclaimer: We are to plan for the future by saying, “If the Lord wills.” That’s where the difference lies: The Bible modifies our need for preparedness with a potent reminder that the future belongs to God.

The book of Proverbs also stresses the importance of planning:

“Go to the ant, you sluggard! Consider her ways and be wise, which, having no captain, overseer or ruler, provides her supplies in the summer, and gathers her food in the harvest. How long will you slumber, O sluggard? When will you rise from your sleep? A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep—so shall your poverty come on you like a prowler, and your need like an armed man” (Prov. 6:6-11; cf. Prov. 30:24-28).

Not preparing for the future is foolish, and while not all poverty is a product of our misdeeds (see, for example, the story of Job), some certainly is. God’s people are expected to be wise about tomorrow (after all, God reveals much of tomorrow in prophecy). Of course you’re expected to be somewhat concerned about the future. But planning for the future is not the same as panicking about it; neither is it the same as claiming personal ownership over the days ahead. None of that time belongs to you until it arrives. 

It is on this front that anxiety oversteps biblical guidelines and becomes a subtle form of works-righteousness. Always prepare wisely, but remember that the title deed to the future is in God’s name. Laying claim to it is to use your personal effort to possess something that doesn’t really belong to you . . . at least not yet. One of the most powerful tools you can use to stop crippling anxiety is simply to return to the present—the only thing you actually possess at this moment. Consider the birds, the flowers. Get outside. Take a deep breath. Pay attention to creation and simply live today with Christ.

Always prepare wisely, but remember that the title deed to the future is in God’s name.

Some think the statement apocryphal, but Benjamin Franklin may have stated it well: “Do not anticipate trouble, or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight.”²

Living in the sunlight is one of the blessings found in the Sabbath. Some of your neighbors may consider Sabbathkeeping legalistic, but it’s impossible to maintain that assertion when you understand the real nature of the sacred hours. Legalism requires doing, but the Sabbath is about being. You live in the presence of your Creator in complete surrender for 24 hours. You do not earn your salvation on the Sabbath; far from it—you celebrate and rest in it.

Between Sabbaths, Christian mindfulness can be helpful. Again, just for the sake of blunt clarity: If we’re talking about the non-Christian religious meditation practiced by mystics, it’s clearly not for us. There is no time Christians should void their minds³ to go searching for answers from within. “Within” is simply not a trustworthy spiritual resource; your nature is fallen. Left to your own devices, you are going to come up with precisely the wrong answers.

But again, it doesn’t mean that we don’t have access to something legitimate. When eighteenth-century Methodists began using popular tunes for their hymns, they met with harsh criticism. How dare they use melodies that could be heard in the dance hall and bar? “Why should the devil have all the good tunes?” replied Rowland Hill.⁴ Similarly, just because meditation has been appropriated and distorted by other religions, it doesn’t mean that the idea belongs to them. It doesn’t. There is such a thing as Christian mindfulness and meditation, anchored not in self but in God:

“I will meditate on Your precepts, and contemplate Your ways. . . . Oh, how I love Your law! It is my meditation all the day” (Ps. 119:15-97).

“I will meditate on the glorious splendor of Your majesty, and on Your wondrous works” (Ps. 145:5).

“Then those who feared the Lord spoke to one another, and the Lord listened and heard them; so a book of remembrance was written before Him for those who fear the Lord and who meditate on His name” (Mal. 3:16).

Worldly meditation establishes human beings as their own sovereigns; whatever your impulses dictate—whatever your fallen instincts suggest—is determined to be the highest truth. By contrast, the biblical version rests completely in Christ alone. What better way to get “centered” (to reclaim a New Age term) than to spend a quiet moment contemplating the life and teachings of Christ?  “It would be well,” Ellen White advised, “to spend a thoughtful hour each day reviewing the life of Christ from the manger to Calvary. We should take it point by point and let the imagination vividly grasp each scene, especially the closing ones of His earthly life. By thus contemplating His teachings and sufferings, and the infinite sacrifice made by Him for the redemption of the race, we may strengthen our faith, quicken our love, and become more deeply imbued with the spirit which sustained our Saviour.”⁵

It turns out, there’s nothing inherentlywoo-wooabout mindfulness and mediation—not when it’s done God’s way. No auras, no mantras, no chakras, no self-direction or spirit guides. Just this present moment . . . with Jesus.