Shall I Trust You, Lord?
What should I say? “God, I trust you to keep my family safe”?
But this is not submission, but an ultimatum. What am I really saying? “God, I know better than you. God, I know the definition of trust-worthiness. It is freedom from pain, harm and hardship. Now that we know where we stand, God, the choice is up to you. Will you be trust-worthy? If my family is safe, I will be delighted because you have obeyed me. If any harm befalls us, I will hate you because you have failed me, and disobeyed me.”
This is not trust.
Trust is in the mouth of Paul: “I therefore boast of my weakness (and suffering) because I know that God’s power is made perfect in weakness.” Trust is in the mouth of Job, the fatherless: “Shall we receive good from the Lord and not evil?” and “Though he slay me, yet I will praise Him.”
What is trust? Trust is a dog with porcupine quills – wimpering but still as his master pulls them out. Trust is a patient on the operating table – terrified, but quiet as the doctor puts her to sleep, then cuts her body to heal it. Trust is a child on a boat, in a storm, at night, with his daddy. He buries his face into his Father’s shirt and is at rest, though he trembles.
Trust is believing that God is good. That God is good for you. And that God’s goodness is worth trusting.
Trust is believing that God is a real person, a personal God. And trusting the person of Jesus Christ to always do what is best for us – even if it stings in the short-term.
Give us sickness, give us health
Give us poverty or wealth
Make us fail or make us win
Make us drown or live to swim
Give us cursing, give us praise
Make us die, prolong our days.
Yet we trust, we trust in You
You make all things ever new
Through the rising, blinding flood
Through the chaos, sticks and mud
You with patient kindness stood,
Binding all in peace for good.