Trusting the Father

Lifting Our Heads: A Reflection from VBS Sunday

This past Sunday was VBS Sunday, and what a joy it was to celebrate what God did in and through our church this week.

All week long, our building was full of kids, leaders, music, laughter, lights, crafts, games, snacks, and most importantly, the message of Jesus. We had around 140 kids registered, with over 100 here multiple days, and each night they learned about the light of Jesus.

Our theme verse was John 8:12:

“Jesus spoke to them again: ‘I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life.’”

Throughout the week, the kids learned who Jesus is: the Messiah, the promised Son of God, the perfect Savior, the powerful Son of God, the risen Lord, and the only way to receive God’s forgiveness. They learned that Jesus is not just someone from history. He is our Savior now and forever. And because he is the light of the world, we are called to shine his light wherever we go.

Sunday morning gave the whole church a small taste of that joy. The kids came forward, lights in hand, and helped lead us in songs from the week. We sang, moved, clapped, and celebrated together. It was loud, colorful, and full of life — exactly the kind of joy that reminds us the kingdom of God belongs to children, and that sometimes adults need kids to help us worship with a little more freedom.

I also want to say thank you again to every leader and volunteer who helped make VBS happen. A week like this takes a lot of energy, preparation, patience, and love. It is exhausting, but it is holy work. Every song sung, every snack served, every small group led, every craft cleaned up, every child welcomed — it matters. Our prayer is that the truth these kids heard will take root and grow, and that the light of Jesus will continue to shine in their lives.

After the joy and energy of VBS, we returned to the Sermon on the Mount, where we have been since April. And in many ways, the passage we came to was exactly what we needed.

Jesus says in Matthew 6:25:

“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life…”

For weeks now, Jesus has been taking us deeper. He has gone beneath the surface of murder to expose anger, beneath adultery to expose lust, beneath religious practice to expose motives. He has challenged retaliation, self-protection, hypocrisy, misplaced treasure, and divided devotion.

It has been important work. But it has also been heavy work.

Then, in this passage, Jesus does something different. Instead of pressing further inward, he tells us to look outward.

Look at the birds.

Look at the lilies.

Lift your head.

That is such a gracious invitation. Jesus knows that after all the inner heart work, we need to remember the Father’s care. We need to see that our lives are held by someone greater than us.

Jesus is not shaming us for worry. That is important to say. “Do not worry” can sometimes sound like a rebuke, as if anxiety means we are failing spiritually. But that is not the tone of Jesus here. He is not dismissing real pain, real uncertainty, or real needs. He is redirecting our gaze.

Worry has a way of shrinking our world. It makes everything about the one thing we cannot fix, the one outcome we cannot control, the one fear we cannot shake. It convinces us that if we stop worrying, everything will fall apart.

But Jesus asks a simple and piercing question:

“Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?”

We know the answer.

Worry does not add. It only takes. It takes peace. It takes sleep. It takes presence. It takes our ability to be fully where God has placed us today.

And yet Jesus does not simply tell us what not to do. He gives us something better:

“Seek the kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.”

Instead of worrying, seek.

Instead of gripping tighter, trust.

Instead of staring only at the problem, lift your head and look to the Father.

Seeking first does not mean pretending life is easy. It does not mean ignoring responsibility. Birds still forage. Farmers still plant. We still work, plan, pray, act, and make wise decisions. But we do so without pretending that we are the ones holding everything together.

There is a difference between carrying what God has asked us to carry and trying to carry what only God can hold.

That may be the invitation for many of us this week: to release what was never ours to carry in the first place.

Jesus ends this section by saying:

“Don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

That may be one of the most compassionate things Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount. He does not deny that trouble exists. He simply tells us not to borrow tomorrow’s trouble before it arrives.

Stay in today.

Be faithful today.

Pray today.

Obey today.

Trust today.

Let tomorrow belong to the Father.

As we came to the communion table on Sunday, we came with open hands — the same hands that had been gripping, managing, worrying, and trying to control. And we received again the reminder that everything we truly need has already been provided in Jesus.

The one who tells us not to worry is not untouched by suffering. He is the Son who prayed in the garden, “Not my will, but yours be done.” He knows what it is to entrust tomorrow to the Father. And he invites us to do the same.

So, church, may we be people who lift our heads.

May we look at the birds and the flowers and remember that our Father sees, knows, and cares.

May we shine the light of Jesus in a world that desperately needs him.

And may we go into this week without borrowing tomorrow’s troubles.

Our Father knows what we need.

He is already at work.

And he is enough.