Last Monday, I had breakfast-dinner with some friends of mine in my same stage of life, the do-I-have-my-life-together-and-can-I-pay-my-bills-when-I-graduate stage of life. I came in with a bowl of strawberries to eat with the pancakes, and when they asked me how I was, I said I was trying to trust God in the face of uncertainty.
They looked at each other and sighed. Them, too. Thanks for saying that.
Then we ate pancakes together and talked about the way life is right now.
Why is trusting God so hard? The words are easy to say (most days), “I trust God.” But in practice that should look like not worrying and obsessing and telling people that you have no idea how things are going to work out.
Maybe I have a hard time surrendering my problems because I want to feel they’re legitimate. I don’t want to surrender my worry because I want someone to tell me, That’s normal. It’s okay to feel that way.
I do want that. I want someone to empathize with my struggle, to say I’m not weak for being overwhelmed.
But when the God I serve is the one who parts seas and raises the dead to life and has provided for my every need at the time when I needed it (not just when I thought I needed it), my worry isn’t valid. My situation is a concern, but obsession and worry is a waste of my energy and my testimony.
If I walk around telling the people who ask me how I’m doing that I’m waiting for God to show me how to work out my situation, that’s healthier for me and gives them an opportunity to watch how God works out my situation. (Also, apparently sometimes when you’re stressed, your sphincter (like the entrance to your stomach) can get a little small and make you feel like you’re going to throw up… Liesel’s anatomical addition to the conversation)
Now, to practice this. If you see me, I’ll tell you I’m waiting for God to work it out, and I’ll take a deep breath while I say it. And you can tell me what you’re waiting for God to work out, and we’ll take deep breaths together and remember that it’s worth it.