If I ever write one book it might be called Gray light, I ever write a second I hope its called Journey to trust. I may die before I gather enough wisdom to put words to that phrase, a journey to trust. It may be the battle that defines my life.
I am on this trust-path and right now I’m so very at the beginning of it. Let me fill you in on some of the things I really suck at. I suck at cooking bacon, reading instructions, balance, folding socks and ultimately.. trust. I suck at trust. It’s painful to write those words, because it just affirms the presence of a big problem that has to tackled, climbed, painstakingly unraveled and set right.
I’ve come to this realization point at least a dozen times in the past, and if you’ve been around a while you probably know that. However, I’ve never moved past the realization point into healing and learning to trust. I keep getting hit over the head with an image of an angry snarling animal in a corner, growling and biting at anyone who extends their hands to help. I feel like that’s me, that I don’t really trust anyone loves me enough to care without strings attached, that all my relationships are quid pro quo, tit for tat, conditional.
Life has hurt me, people have hurt me, and God didn’t shield me from black ugliness and death near as much I wish he would have, could have. At some point along the way I started to live by this Mantra: If it’s going to be okay, I must make it okay. The only person I can depend on is me, not God, not Kel, not friends, just me… and even that’s iffy.
This isn’t a rare reaction when life hands you repeated blows. It takes a step of maturity to keep reaching out after you’ve been hurt. But friends.. we will be hurt again, I will be hurt again and living life without trust is a choking death sentence a decay of the heart. Especially in comparison to the life God is trying to give us. We must, I must learn to trust again.
Mary DeMuth, a blogger and author that I have started to follow challenged her readers to select a photo that will speak to and define their new year. I’ve thought about this a lot over the past fews days and come up with a bunch of ideas, the angry animal, a whole pie, a tightrope walker, a lilly, an overflowing cup…but I have settled on this because I love hands.
I want to hold hands more, physically and spiritually. Don’t worry I probably won’t come hold yours, you can put your hand sanitizer away.
So often when we realize something difficult we’ll focus on the end result rather than the next step. This has been my major block in learning to trust again. Yesterday Kel offered me a valuable idea: What is one, small thing that you can trust God with today?
Trusting him with your kids, your money, your marriage and your whole life is a big step, it’s the best and ultimate step, but maybe you need to trust him just a little to start. It flies in the face of what I hear from church and the bible. I want to trust God with my whole entire life, but what if all I can do is start small? Will he meet me there? Is my small enough for God?
I choose to believe yes, that my father will meet me where I am at instead of waiting for me at the end of the journey.
We are all battered, we all have scars, the easiest thing to do is become cynical, angry and closed off. The harder and greater choice is to keep holding his hand and when you forget to reach for it again and again and again. Keep thrusting out your arm with your small hand flung open and grasp to trust like your life depended on it, because it does. He is there, pulling you out of a stormy sea and he always always will be. He holds in his hands breath for your drowning lungs, light for your dark world and peace for your weak and weary spirit. His hand will always be there. Always. Always.
I am printing that picture of a child taking the hand of a parent and putting it in a frame, on a mirror, on my dash. I am fickle, I fall, I need gracious reminder like this.
What is your picture?
What might you be drowning in? Will you choose to grab his hand today?