Why do I trust in God?

I don’t mean why have I chosen to turn my life over to God, because that is an incredible journey and topic for another time. But why, on a daily basis, do I choose to trust in God? Or, I should say, on the days when I actually choose that, why do I?

I’m ashamed of the answer.

The days I choose to trust God are of two types:

I’m having a great day and I feel emotionally grateful and excited. These days, I trust God because I have some sort of tangible proof that He does watch over His children and cause the righteous and pure to be blessed. Not that I deem myself righteous and pure, but I do believe I am one of His beloved children, and that as my father, He wants to bless me until my cup overflows every chance He’s got. Being eternal, that’s a lot of chances.

The second reason: I failed. Again. I didn’t try to fail. I didn’t screw up on purpose. But some problem, or ongoing challenge, presented itself, and I came up short. I got panicky, and rude, and scared. Those days I trust God because I get so angry that I stand in the shower pounding my fist into the tile wall and cry because I can’t fix it. Because I’m not good enough. Because I let myself down. Because I let those I love down. Because everywhere I turn, someone is bricking up a wall and no matter how hard I try to find a window, a gap, an opportunity to jump out and be free, and start over, and fix whatever started building that wall in the first place. But so often, I feel like that wall just gets completed. The construction guy lays that last brick and mortar it in, and I’m shuttered in complete darkness. Maybe I know how I got there, but I sure don’t know how to get out. And in my desperation, I cry. I yell. I shout. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in defeat, but always in despair and hope that someone, somehow will save me.

And He always does. Without fail. A chink of light appears, and then, if I will let it; if I’m willing to be broken, the wall is blasted away by an ocean of His purity and goodness and light. And I am washed clean with it, and stand there, dripping and grateful and probably still crying.

The wall taking down is never instantaneous, though the peace in my heart is when I know it’s coming; when I’ve let go and let God.

But here’s what I’m thinking.

Not that it’s God is not a good God and is right there while I need him to un-brick my cell and always turns out to be right beside me when I reach the end of my shredded rope.

But, why is it that I can’t trust God….wait for it….just because He is trustworthy?

I say I believe it. I could quote a dozen scripture passages and recite probably hundreds of stories to explain this. I know God is always faithful. I know He cannot and will not fail me. But why does it take until I’m sobbing in fear or frustration to decide to step back into the light?

The answer, as with any human being, is insanely complicated. There are many nuances and layers to my personality, my character and my genetic code that make me all the things I am, from passionate to anxious to playful to thoughtful. Control is one of the reasons. Fear is another. Self-sufficiency. Pride. Previous disappointment (in others, not God.) Scars.

Did you know that I am afraid of falling? Not of heights. I’ve been in the tower in Toronto that until now has been the tallest building in the world. Empire state building? No sweat. Roller coast crest looking down? Big problem. Ski slope looking down? Bigger problem (no seatbelt). Bungee jumping? Ha. Ha. Ha.

And that’s how I live my life. I stay out of fall situations and when I get to the point where my feet have left their firm, planted balance in mother earth, I lose it. I plead with God that I’m sorry and I need Him again.

On the path on the way to the free-for-all off a ledge? I’m fine. No biggie. I’ve got it handled God, you can go take care of someone else. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m good at this, I know what I’m doing. No, you don’t need to hold my hand, I’ve got great balance. Yeah, I know, but that last time I fell was a totally different situation. And you got me back up anyway. Nah, it wasn’t that scary, I’m okay. It made me stronger, you know? I’ll be all right. I’m on top of things, I’ll keep myself straight here.

(silence)

(screaming)

And I trip over the edge again.

Goody good good

So, in my new, more focused praying in the car (I suppose its the only real reason commuting can be good), I was praying for my Dad, and thanking God for blessing him. I was basically saying to God, hey, I knwo my Dad almost had to go through this really intense deal, but through your Grace, you opened up many opportunities for him to take that burden off of his shoulders. And I thought, hey, how great is that, my Dad is a man of great wisdom and he has defenitely lived a grace-filled life, it's great that you've blessed him like this.
But wait.
what does that say about my world view? That God only blesses people when they're good and have been committed to him? That if you're not like that, like in olden days when you got sick or hurt, you must not be committed to God?

No. Heck no. Please no. I don't believe in a God who has a little checklist before He can bless people. I don't believe in a God with a little calculator, counting up the times I've done things right and done things wrong, and doling out mercy and grace dependent on that.

Absolutely not. Here's what I do believe: God works all things together for the good of those who love him.

So...good. That explains why my dad is being blessed so much, but what about me? What about all the blessing I need and want in my life that have been missing for so many months or years? I was supposed to have passed several major milestones in my life thus far - have a full-time job related to my field; be pregnant with my first child; be at least an acceptable cook; have a kick-butt garden; know how to throw clay on a potter's wheel; own a kayak. For real, these things are on my list.

Aha. There it is. These things are on my list. These things are my definition of good.

I should really listen to what I preach. J taught this weekend in youth group about how if you're on a plane, and a storm hits, and things aren't going the way you hoped and prayed they would, you don't go running up to the cockpit, throw the pilot out of the way and take the controls. That's ludicrous. Who would do that??

But I do it every day. God looks out and sees the whole panorama of possibility as he guides my life, but when i look out my teeny window with the shade pulled down half way, I freak out and think "This isn't what I signed up for. Why am I not being blessed? Why aren't good things happening to me? Let me drive, this is bogus."

But then there's His defenition of good. No, I don't have the things on my list. But here's what I do have: a chance to write for a couple dozen pubications on a regular basis and all kinds of subjects. A chance to live near family and not to far from the rest of my family. A home that is all my own. A porch swing. A job with good health insurance that I can excel at. My very own easel to paint as the inspiration moves me. A yard filled with blooming flowers, if not weeded. A car that will last until my kids are in middle school.

A God who loves me, and knows what's truly Good.

Peace because...

So I'm trying to be more intentional about praying, particularly when I have "down" time, such as on a walk to work, driving to the gym, waiting in line somewhere, etc. I was thinking the other day about what God has been teaching me lately, or, what God has been teaching me my whole cognizant life it seems. He's teaching me that He's in charge, and that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him, and that as such, I need to learn to rest in Him. Thinking about my current financial situation, I chuckled at God's intentionality with the perfect math He worked in our budget while my husband is currently unemployed. We're not buying new clothes or going to concerts, but we can pay every single one of our bills on time. Perfect.

And I uttered the words: "Thank you for saving me."

What I meant was, thank you for saving me from my anxious, un-trusting, freaking-out self. For saving me from having to deal with the pain of practical reality, of not having enough money or enough time or enough friends.

But those things aren't really that important. When I said the phrase "Thank you for saving me," I unexpectedly brought up the real reason I should be thanking Him every day. For...saving me. For giving me the freedom to live my life with Him. For deciding I am worth every second of His time, every drop of His blood. To quote the great Jon Acuff: "He recognizes me. He created me. He knows me inside and out, the parts that are ugly and the parts that are beautiful and the parts I don't even know exist yet. And he doesn't see a dope. He sees a beloved daughter...How many times will God take me back when I fall? Again! Again! Again!"

SO when I'm worried about bills or work projects or getting sick or not seeing my family enough, even though those are all legitimate concerns, I need to remember to Rest in Him. Because He saved me - from myself and from my Sin and into His Grace.

Don't Panic

From John chapter 18:
28Then the Jews led Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. By now it was early morning, and to avoid ceremonial uncleanness the Jews did not enter the palace; they wanted to be able to eat the Passover. 29So Pilate came out to them and asked, "What charges are you bringing against this man?"
30"If he were not a criminal," they replied, "we would not have handed him over to you."

31Pilate said, "Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law."

"But we have no right to execute anyone," the Jews objected. 32This happened so that the words Jesus had spoken indicating the kind of death he was going to die would be fulfilled.

33Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?"

34"Is that your own idea," Jesus asked, "or did others talk to you about me?"

35"Am I a Jew?" Pilate replied. "It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?"

36Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place."

37"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.
Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."

38"What is truth?" Pilate asked. With this he went out again to the Jews and said, "I find no basis for a charge against him. 39But it is your custom for me to release to you one prisoner at the time of the Passover. Do you want me to release 'the king of the Jews'?"

40They shouted back, "No, not him! Give us Barabbas!" Now Barabbas had taken part in a rebellion.

and John 19:

7The Jews insisted, "We have a law, and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the Son of God."

8When Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid, 9and he went back inside the palace. "Where do you come from?" he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. 10"Do you refuse to speak to me?" Pilate said. "Don't you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?"

11Jesus answered, "You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin."

12From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jews kept shouting, "If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar."

13When Pilate heard this, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judge's seat at a place known as the Stone Pavement (which in Aramaic is Gabbatha). 14It was the day of Preparation of Passover Week, about the sixth hour.
"Here is your king," Pilate said to the Jews.

15But they shouted, "Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!"
"Shall I crucify your king?" Pilate asked.
"We have no king but Caesar," the chief priests answered.

16Finally Pilate handed him over to them to be crucified.



Okay, keep that passage in the back of your mind for a moment, both Pilate's conversatinal points and Jesus' reaction throughout this whole process.

In Bible Study last night, which, in no relation to this topic at all, parenting, a comment by the leader on the DVD, Tim Kimmel, really, really struck me. Forgive me for harping on this whole idea, but I feel like when God finally gets through to me I have to stay stuck on it until I feel like it really sinks in.

Tim said: "God is on His throne. God is not panicking."

And it struck me as hilariously funny, for two reasons. One - I truly cannot picture God panicking. Through any stretch of my imagination, I cannot picture him hopping off of his eternal throne and running around with a crease between His eyebrows, wringing His hands and clenching His teeth in worry.

This is a good thing, not because I'm not imaginative, but because I have a foundational belief that God is all-powerful and cannot ever be taken aback and anxious about life.

However, my second reaction, also funny, was "well, if I don't believe God ever panicks, then why do I act like I do?" I often act (I should say with good reason, when my husband looses a job, when some very expensive appliance in our home breaks, when my car is literally about to explode) as if God must be freaking out with this unexpected turn of events, and, as Nipsy would say, "what are we gonna DO??!"

But God is not. he's not sitting stone cold without feeling or action, but He's not freaking out. He's taking it in stride, and, here's the best part - communicating with us on our level.

I write for a living (the bacon bits, anyway), and One of the foundational lessons for a writer is figure out who your audience is. If you can't communicate on your audience's level, don't bother. They won't figure it out. This works for both gifted students and those with disabilities. Gifted students will hardly hear things they aren't challenged by, and vice versa for those with learning or other disabilities. God, go figure, understands this concept to a T.

He meets me where I'm at. He says, look, you're freaking out. I'm not so much, but let's walk this path together and I'll listen to you ranting and I'll send some of My special brand of other-world peace back atcha. Let's talk about what you're going through and think of some practical solutions to let Me handle it. He is gentle, prodding when needed, scrappy and absorbing, each as they are called for by my particular blend of person.

Now back to the gospel of John. This is one of the places we see this solidified as extremely as it could be: Jesus' own death. If there was ever a cause to freak out, it's right now. It's before Jesus is flogged, when He's talking with the most powerful Roman authority in His region, and when He, over and over again, has a chance to save Himself in teh chaos that is erupting.

But he doesn't. Two things are particularly evident in these sections of scripture: Jesus is not panicking. Not even a little. Not even like a drop of sweat accidentally trickling down his face worried.

Not only that, but look at what He's saying to pilot. Not the message of the words, but the manner. Pilot is a regional king. Jesus talks to Pilot in his terms. He talks about being a King, about being of royal descent and of royal responsibility. He talks about things greater than this world, and by displaying a sense of calm and assurance in who He is and what He is called for, Pilot meets Him where he is. Pilot does everythign he can to change the natural course of events. Pilot is often displayed as the man who washed his hands of the One True Christ, but really, Jesus was revealed to Him in the same way Jesus reveals himself to us regularly: God doesn't panic, and God is on His throne.

“It’s not IS God going to provide for and protect me. It’s How He’ll accomplish that.

Ah, the glories of JCrew sermons. Always visual. Always with jokes throughout. Always with stories that you may wish were not actually true (It’s time…for the bodywash). And somehow, always so applicable. I love the mix I receive as a believer from attending the larger worship services and my life group, with lessons purely aimed at a community of adults, and attending Saturday night junior high, where the lessons are not aimed at me, but rather, at a more basic, clear understanding of the Bible to lay the groundwork for their future lives of serving Christ and others. All that purely means: Josh is awesome, but not anywhere near as awesome as the lessons God is continually trying to hammer into my head. Not with a hammer, mind you, but in a continual method that needs to be hammer-like in order to make it through to me.

Thus the quote above. Now, I’ve professed believing that God will serve and protect me for my whole life, because I am His beloved daughter. Period. Looking back on my life, even, say, just my married life, it’s chrystal clear the ways and times where we needed x,y or z, and God met that need in an exact way that I couldn’t even have dreamed of.

But in the midst of this, I realized something. Though I do trust God, I trust Him in a different role than I should. I trust Him in a sort of distant-grandparent sort of way. As if He didn’t orchestrate my life, but rather, was always in the wings if I need it or to offer congratulations at rising above life’s challenges. Or to offer stories of “when I was a boy…” 

Thus, when I hit a crisis, which as anyone who knows me has learned that it is almost exactly every six months. Sometimes to the day!!! Even though I know God can and has and will provide, what I tend to think is something like this:

Aright God, I dunno what you’re doing. In fact, I’m quite upset at the fact that you saw the need to shake up a path that I thought was finally coming to some fruition. But it’s okay. Because I will save this. I will work hard, be aggressive, become exhausted, and save the world. Or at least, save my home and jobs and marriage and dreams. I’ll do it. I’m ready. Okay, I’m taking off now. I’m still not very happy with you. But I know you can provide.”

Not very trusting, is it. Or at least, not in the right person. I trust myself. I am confident, talented, and a hard worker. I trust my husband to comfort me when those other three things break down. I trust most people to let me down, but it’s okay, I can solve my own problems. And, oh yes, I trust God to be there.

But, it’s a question that has to be asked: Why do I trust that God will be there, but that He’s too busy or distracted or determined not to provide for my needs?

Case in point (to prove me wrong, as it were). Three weeks after losing a temp job I’d been told for weeks I’d be gaining full-time status at, I landed a better job, with better benefits, closer to home, with more flexibility and challenges. Tim lands a job, after commuting a half an hour to a job he didn’t really appreciate (or v. versa), literally 2 miles from our home, with a Christian vision and mission and kindred spirits. Even when he looses said job, his pay in the past year at one time was enough so that even on unemployment, we make exactly how much it takes to pay our bills, combined with my two jobs. Exactly enough. How’s that for God’s math skills?

And yet it’s a fight for me. Because I am self-sufficient. Ask my parents, I always have been. I packed my bags to run away and start my own life at about 4 years old. My dad even helped me pack! I’ve travelled internationally by myself, led large groups of people by myself, planned entire campus-wide events by myself, gotten jobs and degrees and leadership positions by myself. Why would I assume that God needs to do these things for me? I’m fine with Him waiting in the wings. I’m fine to “pray continually” for others who are actually in need. I’m fine to receive a high-five from Him when I finally get that interview I’ve been waiting for for two years.

You see where the trouble is. I know there’s about 1,000 Bible verses to prove me wrong. To say that He is the author and Perfector, the Great I Am, mightier than anything I can imagine. I know it. I’ve read it, preached it, taught it, and tried to lead by example of it.

But I failed. I do everyday, it shouldn’t be such a surprise.

I’m going to take a second and pull some quotes from my favorite blog, “Stuff Christians Like.” I actually printed this out (which, if you know me, I never print anything out without express direct from the government for tax purposes).

“Although I fall repeatedly and feel shame at my weaknesses, God will never see that and reject me by saying, “Again? Again? Again?” I think that when Christ rose, the statement “again?!” died…He’s God. He’s bigger and wilder and more loving than we can even fathom.”

And you know what else? He can provide for me. He doesn’t need me to save the day. He loves me, and He loves my help, and He loves my passion to tackle the world, but He doesn’t love it when my pride and determination get in the way of Him doing the amazing things He orchestrates.

He is sufficient.

Dickens of a thing

So I had to use a literary quote at some point, my whole brain is riddled with them. At least I haven't stooped to the irrepressible Lord Byron yet.

"The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of us; but, so far we are pursued by nothing else."

When I first read this I thought it was the most inspiring quote ever. I've never seen language so skillfully handled. It's the closing lines of a chapter from A Tale of Two Cities, one of my all-time favorite books.

I've begun to feel like that a lot recently. In this wierd....hologram. Okay, so the star trek references come out of the woodworks. I can't help that its one of three tv shows I watched as a child! But maybe that doens't make sense to some of you. Here's a better example: a vacuum. not to pick up dirt off floors, but this wierd...clear...nondescript place. And right outside, I am in that scene. The wind is whipping everything, wailing like a hurt child. The moon shine makes everything eerie and blinding in the darkness; clouds roil and boom in anticipation. Looking at it all, I'm crying, I'm terrified. I'm lost and scared and not sure where to go.

But then I blink. Then my eyes focus. and I realize, that I am shuttered away in this place of no harm. In a wierd, glass elevator of sorts. The glass us not breakable. The Savior's wing shields me. In this place that, though the effects of the storm around me are seen, heard, and effective, are not piercing. I was thinking about this before my last post, about how trust and safety are so intertwined. If you trust, you will feel safe, and not feel the need to worry. If you trust, no matter how scary things are, you will remain peaceful. Not in a surreal, serene way, but in a way that we know our foundations will not be moved. That we may be broken, battered, and dismayed, but never pierced. Never shattered. Never left for dead.

It's hard to see past the storm. It's hard to tear your eyes away from the raging sea, the crashing mountains, the inky black clouds and the whirlwind inches away. You can't ignore it. Nor can you fight it. But you can hold tight. You can trust. You can not only feel safe, but be safe.

The only thing I can think of right now is Hannah's song. Its long and gangly in the English translation, but I can just imagine her sitting in the temple, on her knees, singing, as she gave up the only thing she had been waiting her whole life for. May I be that peaceful in my times of worry and woe. May I have my foundations so secure that I sing when in pain and look through the storm to the arms holding me.

Hope.

Psalm 46:
God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.

...Selah. Forever.