Blogger's note: This is the third revision of this post. Not sure why it's been so difficult to express properly. There are three separate sections to this-- they were almost three separate posts, but individually were not long enough to stand alone. I'd recommend taking a mental breath in between, because otherwise it will seem rather disjointed.
For the past 8 years, the major lesson that God seems to be teaching me is about trust. Not because
my life has been terrible and tragic; on the contrary, my life has been pretty
calm, normal… certainly not the sort of life that, on the surface, would seem
to require a lot of trust. Be that as it may, trusting God seems to be the
answer to almost every question or dilemma I face, and over the course of these
8 years, I think I’ve learned a few things.
It seems to me that we tend to lose sight of what it
actually means to “trust God”. We tell people whose lives are difficult to
“trust God” as a panacea, but we really don’t think about what that looks
like. We think it means being peaceful,
not worrying—something like when Mary says “Behold the handmaid of the LORD, be
it unto me as thou will,” or when Daniel faces down King Darius and gets tossed
in the lions’ den. And it should eventually mean that; I’ll get there later.
But sometimes all it means is not running away from God when we think He’s
hurting us.
Recently, I saw one of the greatest examples of this sort of
trust, in none other than… my cat. Nicky was a stray that we were in the
process of domesticating, and the first step was a flea bath. If you know
anything about cats, you know that giving a cat a bath ranks pretty highly on
the list of Really Terrible Ideas. He panicked, screeched, squirmed, tried to
climb the walls, the shower curtain, me. But there were two things he didn’t
do: he didn’t bite or scratch (which very well might have gotten him free), and
he didn’t run away from us the minute we had him out of the tub and were drying
him off. He snuggled in as close as he
could and purred, making it very obvious that even though we had “tortured”
him, he still trusted us.
When God lets us go through a trial, our instinctive
reaction is to try to escape the pain, cry, flail… just like a cat’s
instinctive reaction to water is to screech and run. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t
think God faults us for our natural reaction to pain any more than we did Nicky’s
reaction to water. I think our tears and pain break His heart, just like
Nicky’s broke ours, but they don’t display a lack of trust. Trusting God is the
act of will that keeps us holding on to Him even as we know that He allows the
circumstances causing us pain.
I know that “holding onto God” is kind of an esoteric
concept that sounds nice, but because God isn’t physically present we can’t
actually hold on to Him like a stray cat.
So here’s what I mean. Even when our circumstances are breaking us, so
overwhelming that all we can do is cry and flail, we don’t run from God. We
keep going to church, praying, reading the Bible… even when it’s the last thing
we want to do, even if it doesn’t seem to be doing any good. Sometimes, all we
can pray is “I don’t understand. I don’t like this. It hurts.” I don’t think
God minds—because we’re still talking to Him. Running from him is to abandon
your faith, to doubt His goodness or very existence. Holding on to Him is
believing, acknowledging that you know He has a plan, even when you don’t
understand.
I have to confess, I’ve never been through a truly traumatic
experience. I don’t know how hard it is to continue to trust God when He allows
a loved one to die unexpectedly, or when you’re treated grossly unfairly. But I
have had times in my life where I was sad enough, lonely enough, that all I
could say to God was that it hurt and I didn’t know what to do. And when I pray
those prayers, I know as I do that God is there, that He is listening, and that
He cares.
~*~
Now, if we are trusting God in the middle of traumatic
circumstances, eventually we should arrive at a peaceful state because we do
know that God is present, good, and in control.
I’ve discovered an interesting parallel to this in my job. I
worry quite a bit at work (I’m a cook)… about cross-contamination, spoilage,
done-ness, too much to do in too little time. In fact, I can worry myself into
a near-panic state (not every day—don’t think I’m that much of a mess!). But no
matter how stressed I get myself, when our head chef comes in, I relax. He’s
the boss, ultimately in control of the kitchen, knows all the answers (ok, most
of the answers), has my back, and won’t let me mess up.
In life, I worry a lot as well—that I said the wrong thing,
that I did or didn’t do something that should or shouldn’t have been done, that
I don’t have enough time. At first, in
these situations, sometimes trusting God just looks like “Help me! I’m afraid!”
Eventually though, as I trust God by holding on to Him (and not letting my fear
cause me to sin, which also pushes me away from God) I remember just how much
He is in control, and I have peace. Think about it… if God is there, if He is
good, in control of EVERYTHING, and cares immensely about you, there is no
reason to worry. If I’m in control, there is every reason to be terrified,
panicked, and freaked out, but if God is, then I can have that peace that we
identify as trusting God.
~*~
I’ve discovered that, for me, often the hardest time to
trust God is when it looks like He’s just not there, not doing anything. Life
is rarely terrifyingly stressful, but it’s tough and uncertain and sometimes I
wonder if I’m really where God wants me because I certainly don’t understand
why NOW is important and I don’t see Him doing anything in my life or moving me
toward something. And trusting Him looks
like contentment with where He has me. It means not fretting about where I’m
not going and what I’m not doing.
In the past 8 years, I’ve learned that God tends not to show
me more than one step at a time. Imagine a creek with stepping stones—God shows
me where the next one is, but not the one after that. So I often find myself
standing on one foot, waving the other out in front of me, saying, “Ok God,
where next?”
And sometimes, the next step doesn’t make sense. There are
times when I know I’m supposed to do something, but I don’t really understand
why it’s important. About two years ago, I was attending a Bible study about a
half hour away, and volunteered to pick up a college student who had been
attending the campus arm of the study. I didn’t know her, and was quite
surprised to find myself volunteering. I ended up waiting for her for quite
some time because her class ran late, and while no one would have blamed me for
leaving without her, for some reason I was pretty sure I was supposed to wait.
Eventually she came and we went. The story essentially ends there… I had no
idea why it was important that this girl attend this study on this day. But I
think God allowed me a glimpse of why. This girl was from Connecticut, and the
day after the Bible Study was the day of the Sandy Hook shootings in Newtown,
Connecticut. Now, I have no idea if she was at all affected by the shooting. I
never saw her again, never talked to her again. But I wonder…
God’s direction often makes sense in hindsight, but not
necessarily as we move forward. I can trace His direction in my life that has
definitively brought me to the point I am now at, and because of that, I should
be able to trust Him now, even though I don’t know why I’m doing what I’m
doing, where I’m doing it.
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