We give many reasons for not making God a priority in our lives. But most of them seem like things we can’t control. We are almost fatalistic about our self-absorption. But in reality, we are able to choose whether to focus on Christ or on ourselves. And our self-focus leads to worry and stress as we try to manage our lives and live them out under our control.

This really hit home to me when I was reading chapter 2 of Crazy Love. On pg. 42, Francis says “Both worry and stress reek of arrogance.” I had never thought of it that way. I had always seen worry and stress as signs of weakness and lack of trust, but to think that I am arrogantly holding on to my agenda and pushing God out of the way. Wow. What an indictment on my sin nature and my unwillingness to trust every day to Christ.

It quickly became chaos. Before I knew it, people were interrupting each other and nearly yelling; and then, someone threw a shoe. (Well, the shoe part didn’t happen, but I thought that was next.)

Some Question and Answer sessions go smoothly. Some are a bit dicey. But others are just plain chaotic. The one I conducted this week was chaotic.

I used to get frustrated when shoes were thrown, but I don’t anymore because I have realized that when chaos ensues, something incredible happens.

What Happens? There are few things that make us more uneasy than asking: “What’s going to happen next?” We all know people who read their horoscope every day, or regularly see a fortune teller. (Perhaps this is why the ancients were fascinated by prophets.) The question “What’s going to happen next?” leads to anxiety, fear and worry. It can even lead to being dishonest with ourselves. And we know: worry is like a dancing bear and dishonesty is like a monkey with clanging cymbals.

We all know being dishonest with others is wrong and unacceptable: enough said. But there’s a kind of dishonesty we usually don’t talk about: being dishonest with ourselves. It happens when we’re unwilling to admit our personal faults and weaknesses. We convince ourselves that we can overcome our greatest weaknesses on our own. We go on without accountability. Eventually, either by force or surrender, though, we have to come to terms with who we really are.

If worry is like a dancing bear, then dishonesty is like a monkey with clanging cymbals. I’m a drummer—while we’re being honest, I prefer to be called a percussionist; if you’re a musician, you will get the joke, if not, I’ll just say I do more than bang on trash cans—so I love the toy monkeys with clanging cymbals. And I love the videos of monkeys trying to play with percussion instruments. (That stuff is make your ribs-hurt funny.) But when the monkey with clanging cymbals comes on the scene, we have a hard time hearing anything else. While that monkey is telling us lies about good music, like a garage-band drummer, we can’t hear the real melody. We can’t tune for the life of us. Eventually, we end up playing punk rock and having black hair, and calling ourselves an artist. (I did that, for the record.)

We may love the monkeys at the circus, but the dancing bear is what everyone wants to see. Admit it, a beast doing things it should not be capable of is enthralling. When I let worry run the show, everything else becomes a side act. Worry becomes the dancing bear.

Worry controls us, confines us, and consumes us. It can stop us in our tracks. Worry is not a friend. It is an enemy of free thinkers and entrepreneurs. It can even take down those gifted by God. It can destroy anyone who wishes to live freely. From the very beginning of the church we see worry putting a stop to God’s work.

Why does Peter deny Jesus? Worry and (no doubt) fear. Like the trainer—who is likely scared out of his mind when trying to keep the dancing bear at bay—fear is a bi-product.