It sounds so simple, this business of trusting God.
But even when I’m wracked with uncertainty and brutally aware of my own need for God, I often fail to understand how exactly we go about being faithful. Even as I strive to know and trust God with my present and my future, I discover that once again I’m going about it all wrong.
I’ve placed my trust in earthly things instead of in who God is, has been, and always will be.
When we’re reticent to truly trust God, our vision is limited. We place our trust in human endeavors–promotions, houses, even people–but earthly securities are but illusions. They crumble, they fall, they fail us. At those moments of despair we often cry out to God, feeling betrayed.
But it is God whom we have betrayed.
We’ve put our trust, our devotion, and our service in the things of this world instead of our creator, redeemer, and sustainer. And when God doesn’t have our whole trust and our whole lives, God can’t grant us the vision and possibilities and promises that lie beyond our own limited perspective and imagination.
I heard a great sermon yesterday challenging us to faithfully cast out our nets as the disciples do in the last chapter of John and trust Jesus to fill them with provision that defies common sense.
But we’re so stubborn.
We human beings cling to our common sense like it’s all there is, like we’d rather settle for our own plans and dreams and ideas rather than God’s expansive vision. Have the Biblical stories taught us nothing? Has the promise of Easter fallen on deaf ears? Do we truly believe Christ has been raised from the dead, and with him, we, too have been given eternal life?
I’m realizing that living as Easter people means risking the earthly things for the eternal ones, and relying on God to provide possibilities that we cannot fathom or imagine, but that we earnestly trust come from the hand of the creator, redeemer, and sustainer who never fails us. For me, this requires daily commitment. It requires me to continually let go of my plans, however seemingly perfect, and find rest and peace in who God is. My restlessness, in fact, is a good sign to me usually that I’m relying on my own vision rather than seeking God’s.
So may you find rest in who God is, has been, and always will be this morning. May you seek eternal rather than earthly things, and may you be raised alongside Christ to taste and see the possibilities that only God has in store for you and your life. Amen.
I’m happy to report that I have a draft of my dissertation–all five body chapters–and am working to make revisions to these before the baby comes. Throughout the pregnancy, even though I haven’t felt great, I’ve been really active, continuing my normal runs (albeit shorter and slower) along the canal, and I’ve had a fair amount of energy, which I’ve been really thankful for.
Still, it’s been discouraging to hear unsolicited advice and comments from strangers or acquaintances warning that I’ll “get nothing done after the baby comes,” or that the energy, productivity, and passion that I have for my dissertation project will necessarily fall by the wayside.
I can’t anticipate what it’s like to have a baby.
I imagine it will be an uncanny mix of exhaustion, joy, and fear, and schedules and priorities will necessarily have to shift, but I have no way of knowing what’s really coming. It’s a completely new experience for my husband and I, and so these comments have, on occasion, sprouted little seeds of doubt about myself and the life and passions I seemingly will have to give up for a new baby.
I’ve been noticing, however, that I’m not a stranger to the unknown, and that through all the unknowns in my life, God has been decidedly faithful, providing possibilities I, myself, could have never foreseen. It’s been helpful as I approach the unknown of having a child to remember how my husband and I felt, for instance, before going to live in China. We had no idea what to expect, and yet, we prepared as best we could, seeking counseling, reading books, imagining potential conflicts, difficulties, and pitfalls, as well as looking forward to the excitement of a new experience.
I recently read a blog post about productivity from Zen Habits in which the author describes anxiety as a lack of trust in the future. While I think this makes sense, I don’t necessarily see a reason to trust the future per say, but I do want to be a person who trusts God with my future. God sees possibilities for us that we can’t, but we often struggle to let God be God when it comes to the future. For instance, the teaching experience that I just completed at Drew that was so formative for me wasn’t even on the radar until summer last year. If I had panicked and chosen something else, I would have missed out on one of God’s possibilities.
It’s funny how this kind of trust in God can impact not just the future, but the present. For instance, when I realized that the negative voices of strangers often came from a place of anxiety themselves, I gradually began to also hear the confidence and encouragement of friends who know me well. My spiritual director told me she’d never been more productive than when she had a newborn who slept all the time, my advisor never wavered from believing that I could complete both a dissertation and have a baby, and my friends only seem to be more supportive of me now that my husband and I are embarking on this new season in life. It means so much to have God using these friends and mentors to remind me who I am during this time.
I love a challenge–I always have, from that first trip to Mexico in high school to our life in China, to writing a dissertation, and finally having a baby–these are all things that at one point seemed impossible that God made possible. And so here I am, over eight months pregnant, working on a dissertation, expecting a baby, and wondering what possibilities God has in store for this coming fall.
And with God by my side, I hardly feel anxious.
It’s this challenge of faith, trusting the future to God, and leaning on God to yield contentment and peace in the present, that’s keeping me grounded, confident, and filled with gratitude. I don’t think contentment is about sliding into complacency. On the contrary, it’s about living faithfully with the uncertain, another challenge that God’s been guiding me through these past years. I just keep marveling on how much God can do with our lives when we bow them at God’s feet rather than wresting them from a God who wants to show us possibility.
How do you trust God with your future? How do you find contentment in your present? How do you worship God with your life?