Matthew 6:31

Berean Standard Bible

Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’

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Let not your heart be gripped by fear,

Nor dwell on wants that draw you near

To worry’s chain—what shall we eat or wear?

For God, who knows, will meet you there.

Why chase the fleeting cares of earth,

As if your life had little worth?

The Father sees your every need,

His kingdom’s call your soul shall heed.

So lift your eyes to seek His face,

Trust in His love, abide in grace,

For He who gives the day its light,

Will guide your path through darkest night.

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The verse of Matthew 6:31, nestled within the Sermon on the Mount, serves as a pivotal moment in Jesus’ teaching on anxiety and trust, where He directly addresses the human tendency to be consumed by worry over material needs. “Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’” This command, following the vivid imagery of the birds of the air and the lilies and grass of the field, marks a shift from illustration to exhortation, urging Jesus’ listeners to reject the cycle of fear that dominates human existence and to embrace a life of faith in God’s provision. To fully unpack the depth of this verse, we must consider its theological significance, its cultural context, and its practical implications, situating it within the broader framework of Jesus’ call to seek the kingdom of God above all else.

The word “therefore” signals that this verse builds on the preceding teachings, where Jesus points to the birds, which neither sow nor reap, and the grass, which is clothed despite its fleeting nature, to demonstrate God’s attentive care for His creation. Having established that God provides for even the least of His creatures, Jesus now applies this truth directly to human concerns, listing specific questions that plague the anxious heart: “What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?” These questions are not abstract but deeply rooted in the daily realities of His first-century audience, many of whom lived on the margins, facing the constant uncertainty of food, water, and clothing. By naming these concerns explicitly, Jesus acknowledges the legitimacy of human needs while simultaneously challenging the anxiety that accompanies them. The command “do not be anxious” is not a dismissal of these needs but a reorientation of perspective, calling His listeners to see their lives through the lens of God’s faithfulness rather than the shadow of scarcity.

Theologically, this verse underscores the nature of God as a providential Father who knows and meets the needs of His children. The repetition of “do not be anxious” in this passage, appearing earlier in Matthew 6:25 and again here, emphasizes the centrality of trust in Jesus’ vision of discipleship. Anxiety, as Jesus frames it, is not merely a practical concern but a spiritual issue, reflecting a lack of confidence in God’s character. The questions Jesus lists—“What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?”—are not just expressions of worry but a form of self-dialogue, a mental cycle that amplifies fear and distracts from faith. By instructing His followers not to “say” these things, Jesus is addressing both the internal thought patterns and the external expressions of anxiety, which can reinforce doubt within individuals and communities. The call to reject this anxious speech is a call to align one’s mind and words with the reality of God’s kingdom, where provision is assured for those who seek it.

Culturally, Jesus’ words would have resonated powerfully with His audience, who lived in a world where survival was often precarious. For the poor, the day laborers, and the marginalized in first-century Judea, questions about food, drink, and clothing were not hypothetical but pressing realities. The Roman economic system, with its heavy taxation and social inequalities, heightened these concerns, while the cultural emphasis on honor and status often tied personal worth to material security. Jesus’ command to “not be anxious” was radical in this context, challenging the prevailing mindset that equated provision with personal effort or social standing. By listing these specific worries, Jesus connects with the lived experience of His listeners, showing that He understands their struggles while pointing them to a higher truth: their Father in heaven knows their needs and is trustworthy to provide. This message would have been particularly liberating for those who felt invisible or insignificant, affirming that their lives matter to God far more than the birds or grass.

The phrase “do not be anxious” carries a deeper nuance in the Greek term merimnaō, which can imply being overly concerned or distracted by cares. Jesus is not denying the importance of food, drink, or clothing—essential for survival—but is challenging the way these needs dominate human thought and energy. The structure of the verse, with its threefold repetition of questions, mirrors the repetitive nature of worry itself, which can spiral into a consuming force that crowds out faith. By addressing this directly, Jesus invites His listeners to break this cycle, to step out of the narrative of scarcity and into the narrative of divine abundance. The implicit promise is that God, who sustains creation, is already aware of human needs and is working to meet them in accordance with His will. This aligns with the broader theme of the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus redefines blessedness, righteousness, and security in terms of God’s kingdom rather than worldly measures.

Practically, Matthew 6:31 calls believers to a radical trust that reshapes daily life. For Jesus’ original audience, this meant resisting the temptation to prioritize survival over faithfulness, whether through hoarding resources or compromising values to gain security. For modern readers, the verse speaks to the pervasive anxieties of our time—financial instability, career pressures, or the relentless pursuit of comfort in a consumer-driven culture. The command to “not be anxious” is not a call to denial or passivity but to an active reorientation of priorities. Jesus is urging His followers to refuse the mental and verbal rehearsal of worry, which only deepens fear, and instead to cultivate a posture of trust through prayer, gratitude, and kingdom-focused living. This does not mean ignoring practical needs or abandoning responsibility but framing those needs within the certainty of God’s care.

The verse also carries an communal dimension, as the questions Jesus lists are phrased in the plural—“What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?”—suggesting that anxiety is not just personal but shared, affecting families, communities, and societies. Jesus’ teaching here has implications for how believers support one another, encouraging mutual care and generosity as expressions of trust in God’s provision. In a world where worry can isolate and divide, the call to reject anxiety is a call to build communities of faith, where needs are shared, and God’s faithfulness is celebrated together. This communal aspect would have been vital for the early church, as it is today, reminding believers that they are not alone in their struggles but part of a body sustained by the same Father.

Eschatologically, Matthew 6:31 points to the temporary nature of earthly concerns in light of God’s eternal kingdom. The questions of food, drink, and clothing, while pressing, are ultimately fleeting in the grand scope of God’s redemptive plan. By urging His followers not to be anxious, Jesus is inviting them to live with an eternal perspective, where the pursuit of God’s righteousness takes precedence over temporal needs. This does not diminish the reality of physical needs but elevates them to a context where God’s provision is assured, both in this life and in the life to come. The verse prepares the way for the climactic instruction in Matthew 6:33 to “seek first the kingdom of God,” showing that trust in God’s provision frees believers to focus on what is ultimate rather than what is immediate.

In its directness, Matthew 6:31 confronts the human heart with a choice: to be consumed by the questions that define worldly existence or to trust in the God who knows and meets every need. It is a call to silence the anxious chatter of the mind, to reject the narrative of scarcity, and to embrace the reality of a Father who provides. For those who first heard these words on a Judean hillside, and for us today, the message is clear: our lives are not defined by what we lack but by the One who supplies all things. To live without anxiety is to live as those who know their Father, who trust His care, and who seek His kingdom above all else.

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Grace and peace to you, beloved brothers and sisters in Christ, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who has called us out of darkness into His marvelous light and sustains us by His boundless love. I write to you, not with words of human wisdom, but with the truth of the gospel, compelled by the Spirit to stir your hearts and strengthen your faith. As I reflect on the words of our Savior in the Gospel, where He commands us, “Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’” I am moved by the tenderness and power of this call to trust. These words, spoken on a mountainside, echo through the ages, confronting our fears and beckoning us to a life rooted in the certainty of God’s provision. Let us ponder together the depth of this teaching, that we may cast aside the chains of worry and walk in the freedom of those who know their Father’s care.

My dear friends, consider the weight of Jesus’ command: “Do not be anxious.” He speaks not to dismiss our needs but to reframe them in the light of God’s kingdom. The questions He names—“What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?”—are the cries of the human heart, questions that rise unbidden in moments of uncertainty. They are not mere words but a window into the fears that grip us, the doubts that whisper we must fend for ourselves in a world of scarcity. Yet our Lord, in His wisdom, does not ignore these concerns; He names them, showing that He sees the burdens we carry. These are the questions of a people living in a broken world, where hunger, thirst, and want are real, where the future often feels like a shadow looming over the present. But Jesus calls us to silence these anxious thoughts, to refuse to let them define us, for we are not orphans scrambling for survival but children of a Father who knows our needs before we speak them.

Theologically, this command reveals the heart of a God who is both sovereign and intimate, whose providence encompasses the grand sweep of creation and the smallest details of our lives. The “therefore” in Jesus’ words ties this exhortation to the birds of the air and the grass of the field, which neither toil nor spin yet are fed and clothed by God’s hand. If He cares for the fleeting creatures of the earth, how much more does He care for you, who are redeemed by the blood of Christ, adopted into His family, and destined for His eternal glory? This is the gospel’s promise: that the God who spoke the world into being is the same God who sees your every need. Anxiety, as Jesus frames it, is not just a human struggle but a spiritual battle, a temptation to trust in our own strength rather than in the One who holds all things together. When we rehearse these questions of worry, we risk forgetting the truth that our Father is faithful, that His resources are infinite, and that His love for us is unshakeable.

In the context of Jesus’ time, these words would have pierced the hearts of His listeners, many of whom lived on the edge of survival. The poor, the day laborers, the marginalized in Roman-occupied Judea knew the sting of want, the uncertainty of where their next meal or garment would come from. To them, these questions were not abstract but daily realities, shaped by a world of economic hardship and social inequity. Yet Jesus’ command was revolutionary, challenging them to reject the mindset of scarcity that dominated their culture. He was not promising a life free of need but a life free of fear, rooted in the certainty that their Father in heaven sees and provides. For us today, the questions remain the same, though the context has shifted. We live in an age of abundance yet are plagued by new anxieties—financial pressures, societal expectations, the relentless demand to secure our future through endless striving. Jesus’ words cut through this noise, calling us to a different way, a way of trust that seems foolish to the world but is the very wisdom of God.

Practically, what does it mean to obey this command to “not be anxious”? It is not a call to ignore our needs or to abandon responsibility, for we are called to work and steward the gifts God has given us. But it is a call to refuse the tyranny of worry, to silence the questions that consume our minds and rob us of peace. To “not be anxious” is to choose a posture of faith, to pray with confidence, knowing that God hears us. It is to cultivate gratitude, recognizing that every provision—whether a meal, a home, or a moment of rest—is a gift from His hand. It is to live with open hands, trusting that what we need will be supplied in His time and way. When the questions—“What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?”—rise in your heart, let them be a prompt to turn to God, to bring your needs before Him, and to rest in His promise to provide. And in your communities, be a people who share generously, who bear one another’s burdens, who testify to the world that our hope is not in what we can secure but in the One who secures us.

The plural form of these questions—“What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?”—reminds us that faith is not only personal but communal. Anxiety can isolate us, but trust in God binds us together. As the body of Christ, you are called to encourage one another, to pray for each other’s needs, to share what you have as a sign of God’s abundance. In a world that fosters fear and division, let your churches be places where the gospel’s truth shines brightly, where the poor are cared for, the anxious are comforted, and the weary find rest. Let your lives together proclaim that the God who feeds the birds and clothes the grass is the God who sustains His people, weaving their needs into the tapestry of His redemptive plan.

Eschatologically, this verse points us to the ultimate hope of the kingdom, where every need will be met, and every fear will be swallowed up in the presence of Christ. The questions of food, drink, and clothing, while real, are temporary, belonging to this age that is passing away. Jesus’ command to “not be anxious” invites us to live with an eternal perspective, to fix our eyes on the kingdom of God, where true treasure is found. This does not mean we deny the realities of this world but that we see them in light of the world to come, where Christ reigns and all things are made new. To reject anxiety is to declare that our lives are not defined by what we lack but by the One who supplies all things, the One who gave His life for us and rose again to secure our future.

I urge you, therefore, to stand firm in this truth, to encourage one another in the face of life’s uncertainties. When worry threatens to overwhelm you, look to the birds, the grass, the simple signs of God’s care all around you. Let them remind you that you are held in the hands of a Father who never fails. Seek His kingdom first, trust His provision, and live as those who know their worth is not in what they possess but in whose they are. May the God of peace, who raised Jesus from the dead, guard your hearts and minds, filling you with the joy of His presence. And may you walk in the confidence that the One who knows your needs will never leave you nor forsake you.

To Him be glory forever and ever. Amen.

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O God of all provision, Father of mercy and Lord of unending faithfulness, we come before You with hearts lifted in worship, seeking the peace that flows from Your sovereign care. You are the One who knows the cries of our hearts before they form, who sees our needs before we name them, and who calls us to trust rather than to tremble. Your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, has taught us to cast aside the anxious questions that consume us—“What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?”—and to rest in the assurance that You, our heavenly Father, are attentive to every detail of our lives. We stand in awe of Your love, which sustains the vastness of creation yet stoops to meet the needs of Your children. Hear our prayer, O Lord, as we seek to align our hearts with Your truth and to live as those who trust in Your unfailing provision.

You are the Creator who spoke life into being, who formed the earth and all that fills it, who feeds the birds of the air and clothes the grass with fleeting beauty. In Your wisdom, You have woven provision into the fabric of creation, ensuring that even the smallest sparrow does not fall unnoticed, that even the humblest blade is adorned for its season. Yet how much more, O God, do You cherish us, whom You have redeemed through the precious blood of Your Son, adopted as Your own, and sealed with Your Spirit for eternity? We confess that our hearts are often restless, caught in the grip of worry, rehearsing questions of want that drown out the truth of Your care. Forgive us, Lord, for the times we have let anxiety rule us, for the moments we have spoken or thought as though our lives depended on our own strength. Turn our eyes to Your kingdom, silence the fears that echo within us, and teach us to trust in the One who provides beyond our imagining.

We praise You, Almighty Father, for You are not a God who stands afar but a Father who draws near, knowing our needs and delighting to meet them. The questions we ask in our anxiety—“What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?”—are known to You, and in Your mercy, You invite us to lay them down. You are the God who fed Your people in the wilderness, who gave Your Son as the bread of life, who clothes us with the righteousness of Christ. If You have given us Jesus, the gift above all gifts, how will You not also provide all we need for this earthly journey? We lift to You our worries, our fears of scarcity, our uncertainties about tomorrow, and we ask that You replace them with the certainty of Your love. Help us to see that our worth is not in what we possess but in whose we are, that our security lies not in our striving but in Your steadfast care.

O Lord, You are the God of abundance, whose provision flows from Your heart of grace. In a world that fuels anxiety, that measures value by what we produce or consume, we pray for the courage to live differently—as those who know their Father’s care. For those among us who face want, who struggle to find their daily bread or shelter, draw near with Your presence, and let them see Your hand in the kindness of others, in the provision of each day. For those tempted to chase security through wealth or control, humble their hearts, and guide them to seek the treasure of Your kingdom above all else. For Your church, called to be a beacon of hope, make us a people who trust boldly, love generously, and live joyfully, reflecting the confidence that comes from knowing You. May we share with one another, bear each other’s burdens, and proclaim to the world that our hope is in the God who never fails.

Spirit of God, breathe upon us, that we may walk in the freedom of Your provision. Help us to silence the questions that stir anxiety, to replace them with prayers of trust, and to seek first Your kingdom and Your righteousness. When we are tempted to worry, remind us of Your care for the birds, the grass, the fleeting things of earth that testify to Your faithfulness. When we grow weary, renew us with the hope of Christ’s return, when all things will be made new, and every need will be met in Your presence. Keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, the one who bore our sins, rose in victory, and now reigns as our advocate and King. In Him, we find the fullness of Your provision, the assurance of Your love, and the promise of Your eternal kingdom.

We offer this prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who taught us to trust in Your care and to lay aside the anxieties that bind us. To You, O God, be all glory, honor, and power, now and forever. Amen.