This is a post that I wrote most of almost a year ago and just never got around to publishing. Typically, I write about my faith when I have something I need to write about or feel passionate enough to say. And while this wasn’t per say at the forefront of my heart right now, I was kind of stunned to realize just how apparent it still is. It’s every bit as true now as it was then, and that’s at no fault other than my own.
‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, and to take him at his word.
Just to rest upon his promise and to know “thus saith the Lord.”
Alright, show of hands… who finds this as easy? Don’t lie, now.
Right, that’s what I thought.
I like to fool myself into thinking that I’m good at this. I think that I’m trusting him. I really do firmly believe that he has a plan for me. And I firmly believe that it will happen. But y’all, I don’t trust in that. How do I know?
Because I don’t take risks. I don’t release my control on my circumstances. I don’t release my worry over every little thing.
There’s a certain portion of trust that I believe relies on blind faith. How do you know the extent of trust unless you bottom out, unless you have no footing in which to grasp?
When I have been the most uncertain, I’m hesitant to say that I was really relying on my own faith, on my own trust. I was hearing to trust from friends. I was seeing the trust from my mother. But was I trusting, myself? Fully?
I know it comes down to control. I know that it’s my own self-need to understand my situation, direct my situation. I feel like if I’m not taking steps to impact my situation or decisions, then I’m doing it wrong.
And I know that trust doesn’t mean having a complete “hands off” approach all of the time. But I think it does some of the time. How else will we know how deep our faith runs?
In order to put trust in something, that requires more of us than just belief. That requires an action, or a lack of action as an action itself. It requires strength to say my life, my circumstance, my direction, my opportunities, my comfort is out of my hands. And then to do it. To relinquish the worry and hesitation and unease and a plan and grasp onto blind faith.
Because it’s in blind faith that we have the clearest sight.
Now, a year after first writing this, goodness knows I have taken risks. Big risks. Book writing risks and publishing risks. And even after seeing how much greater his plan is than my own, I still try to force my own direction over my life. I still worry about so many things that would be much better kept in hands grander than mine. This is me, sharing with you, dear reader, that I fail to do this every. single. day. But in no way does that allow me to withhold from trying the next day.
If you enjoy reading posts like this and facing challenges alongside someone else, I really think you’d like my devotional, too!