If I'm being honest, I'd rather just skip this prompt all together - it is challenging me and poking me too much in all of the places I don't want to be challenged. I'd rather hide, run away, ignore it all and wait until next week's prompt. All that from a single word: trust.
Why all the consternation from a single word? Because trust is this thing I seem to lack so royally these days. Trust - or really, the lack thereof - brings me to tears. Trust is the thing that I want and yet it seems so unattainable. Trust that I'll be a good mother. Trust that I'll know what to do when my little one cries. Trust that I won't turn into some awful, sleep deprived, enraged, cranky...witch. But in an even bigger way, I struggle to trust, I mean really trust that He's going to take care of me.
He's growing me and stretching me, and not just physically because I'm pregnant. He's challenging me to care radically for someone who will be more dependent on me than anyone has ever been ever (I know, that sounds redundant, but that's my point). How am I supposed to give when I feel so...empty? So tired? So worn? She's not even born yet and I feel like I'm sinking faster than I can learn how to swim. I know that all is not lost, that hope still abounds, and yet trust feels like this elusive concept that is far beyond my grasp.
It sounds so easy to simply say "trust God" and at the same time it sounds so far off, so philosophical, so intangible. Trust these days isn't some concrete thing, some anchor holding me steady in the raging storm. Rather, trust is a tiny wooden board in the middle of a tumultuous ocean, and somehow, someway, I'm supposed to balance on it, set my life on it. Trust is a task that seems insurmountable. How I long to walk on the waters with Jesus, to not look down and be astonished or afraid of the crashing waves, but here I am, desperately searching for my water wings just in case.
Today it seems I have no words of wisdom, no great conclusion about the trust that we are all called to. Today what I have is the knowledge (the head knowledge) and reassurance from Scripture that He will not abandon me. Today what I have is nothing more than a fervent prayer that the head knowledge I cling to will fill my heart with the trust I so desperately long for.
Blog
on Trust {and lacking it, too}.
If I'm being honest, I'd rather just skip this prompt all together - it is challenging me and poking me too much in all of the places I don't want to be challenged. I'd rather hide, run away, ignore it all and wait until next week's prompt. All that from a single word: trust.
Why all the consternation from a single word? Because trust is this thing I seem to lack so royally these days. Trust - or really, the lack thereof - brings me to tears. Trust is the thing that I want and yet it seems so unattainable. Trust that I'll be a good mother. Trust that I'll know what to do when my little one cries. Trust that I won't turn into some awful, sleep deprived, enraged, cranky...witch. But in an even bigger way, I struggle to trust, I mean really trust that He's going to take care of me.
He's growing me and stretching me, and not just physically because I'm pregnant. He's challenging me to care radically for someone who will be more dependent on me than anyone has ever been ever (I know, that sounds redundant, but that's my point). How am I supposed to give when I feel so...empty? So tired? So worn? She's not even born yet and I feel like I'm sinking faster than I can learn how to swim. I know that all is not lost, that hope still abounds, and yet trust feels like this elusive concept that is far beyond my grasp.
It sounds so easy to simply say "trust God" and at the same time it sounds so far off, so philosophical, so intangible. Trust these days isn't some concrete thing, some anchor holding me steady in the raging storm. Rather, trust is a tiny wooden board in the middle of a tumultuous ocean, and somehow, someway, I'm supposed to balance on it, set my life on it. Trust is a task that seems insurmountable. How I long to walk on the waters with Jesus, to not look down and be astonished or afraid of the crashing waves, but here I am, desperately searching for my water wings just in case.
Today it seems I have no words of wisdom, no great conclusion about the trust that we are all called to. Today what I have is the knowledge (the head knowledge) and reassurance from Scripture that He will not abandon me. Today what I have is nothing more than a fervent prayer that the head knowledge I cling to will fill my heart with the trust I so desperately long for.
