Navel-Gazing

Trust as a concept is something I can discuss pretty freely. I'd consider myself a fairly trusting person, having grown up where, when and how I did. I haven't had lots of reasons not to trust people. Generally, I'd even say that I trust someone until they give me reason not to. Sure, I've been hurt. I've had my trust broken. I've broken others' trust. It's a reality of human existence that we will let each other down. I've come to terms with that, on most levels, and learned how to handle it. I'm not quite as quick to trust as I was; I'm more likely to ask questions and hold back a bit until I know a person or situation a little.

However.

When it comes to the concept and function of trusting God, who is by His character more trustworthy than any human I'll ever meet, I seem to function on the concept of not trusting until I'm given a reason to. Here's what brought this home to me, again.

The last few months have been ones of new experience. Of risk. Of attempting a few things that I didn't already know would succeed. Of allowing new people and experiences into my life in a way that I haven't for quite a few years. I got a significant promotion. I trained for and ran a 10-mile race. I reconnected with a few old friends and began to make some new ones. And for obvious reasons, this relational piece has been the most significant.

What it caused me to realize is that I "trust" easily because I don't take many risks. Therefore, I don't have to rely on God for much. I can handle my life, the way I've set it up, pretty much on my own.

As I've begun to risk with the new friendships in my life, I'm recognizing the impact of this. I don't trust God to be what I need. I don't trust Him to supply my need for intimacy, for relationship, for connection, for that unerring sense that someone will be there for you, no matter what. I don't have any real idea how one experiences that with God. I'm not even sure that's the point of our relationship with Him. Instead, I go looking for humans to provide that, to be that for me. And when I do, by definition, get let down, it's convenient to blame God.

When this happens, I get scared. I get I pull an Elijah and hide in the wilderness. I'm angry at Him because He hasn't provided what I think I need. And I really struggle to believe that He has my best in mind. That I matter to Him. That He wants good things for me. And perhaps the hardest thing: that His best for me may not align with what I see as best. In short, my world starts to revolve around my navel. (Nice contortionist picture, isn't it?)

There are no guarantees in this that I will ever "feel better", or differently. That it will get easier to trust God. That in doing so, I will ever achieve or receive the things that I hunger for. There aren't even any guarantees that my trust will deepen. But I know that what I'm doing now isn't working. And I don't plan to live my life by the definition of insanity (doing the same thing and expecting a different result). So I again attempt to come out of hiding. To take the next risk. To recognize that my human perspective is painfully limited. And to attempt to trust that it does, actually, matter to Him how I respond, and live, and choose.

I don't know that these attempts will change anything. But I do know that He takes our most pitiful attempts to glorify Him and uses them. I was challenged in a huge way by this post on a friend's blog. His experience right now dwarfs anything I might struggle with, and it definitely took my head out of my navel. So for now, I'll hold on to that. And try to trust that it will be enough.