Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties

Charles Spurgeon, the “Prince of Preachers,” whose voice thundered in the pulpits of nineteenth-century England, once gave us a jewel of wisdom: “Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.” In these words he strikes at the root of human restlessness, exposing the futility of anxiety. For man in his weakness often imagines that by worrying, he prepares for the storms to come. But in truth, worry does not shield us from sorrow—it only robs us of the strength we need to face the day at hand.

When Spurgeon declares that anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, he reminds us that tomorrow is beyond our grasp. It will come with its burdens, whether we fear them or not. To weigh ourselves down today with the griefs of tomorrow is to suffer twice: once in imagination, and again in reality. Thus, worry is not foresight but self-inflicted torment, a phantom that multiplies pain without granting preparation.

But his second truth pierces even deeper: anxiety empties today of its strength. The energy, courage, and clarity we need to live this day fully are drained away by the fears of what has not yet come. The mind chained to tomorrow cannot act wisely in the present. Thus, the worrier is unarmed in two battles—he has weakened himself for today, and he is no better prepared for tomorrow. Spurgeon’s wisdom is therefore not merely religious but profoundly practical: worry wastes life.

Consider the story of Franklin D. Roosevelt, who in his youth was struck down by polio, his body crippled and his future clouded. He could have spent his years in anxiety, fearing the sorrow of what his life had become. But instead, he embraced the present moment, building his mind and his resolve, until he rose to lead a nation through Depression and war. His strength was not wasted on imagined fears but focused on daily courage. He embodied Spurgeon’s truth: strength belongs to the present, and anxiety steals it away.

The deeper wisdom here is that the soul is sustained not by worry but by trust, courage, and action. Anxiety is passive; it gnaws but does not build, it corrodes but does not heal. By surrendering to worry, we lose the only thing we truly possess—the strength to live this day. But by focusing our will upon the present, we prepare for the future not with fear, but with readiness.

The lesson, then, is this: do not yield your strength to shadows. Tomorrow will come, and when it does, you will face it with the strength that today has given you—if you do not waste it on worry. Each day has enough of its own burdens; to borrow those of tomorrow is folly. Instead, cultivate presence of mind, gratitude for what is, and steady trust that tomorrow will provide its own resources.

Practically, this means: when anxiety rises, pause. Breathe deeply. Anchor yourself in what can be done now, however small. Write down your worries, and then set them aside, refusing to let them drain the energy needed for today’s duties. Practice faith, whether in God, in life, or in your own endurance, that tomorrow will be faced when it comes. In doing so, you reclaim the strength of today.

So let Spurgeon’s wisdom echo across the ages: “Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.” Guard your strength. Live in the present. Refuse to waste your spirit on fears that are not yet real. And when tomorrow dawns, you will find yourself ready, strong, and unbroken—able to face its sorrows, and perhaps even to transform them into victories.