My God cannot be put in a box. My God cannot be thwarted. My God is a big God.
If I fear that any decision I make will destroy my life, I have forgotten the power of the One I’ve committed my life to. My God is big enough to turn this ship around. He’s big enough to pick me up kicking and screaming and land me wherever he wants. He’s big enough to uproot all expectations and crush my world–according to his great plan.
Honestly, my Father makes the ultimate decisions. My friends or my life may ask me questions and I may answer as confidently or confusedly as I may, but in the end my Father dictates what happens. If one toddler asks another if sh’ed like to set her hand on a hot stove, she may agree that, indeed, she’d love to! But her father will whisk her off the stool and not allow it if it is not safe. Likewise, a child may reach for a piece of candy offered, but it the father disagrees, he will get to that candy first and pocket it for his child’s health.
I am not so powerful as I fear. Yes, we are allowed free will and we may decide to make choices against God’s will that he may allow us to follow through on. But why am I fixated on that fear as if my Father is constantly putting me to the test? God loves me and we are working on a team. As long as I am pursuing after him as best as I know how (however inadequate that may be), I have no reason to believe he’s out to watch me fail and punish me for it.
My God knows my lack of wisdom. He understands the skewed vision with which I see. If he wants to make something clear to me he is every bit capable of literally rocking my world. And, he knows exactly how much rocking it would take for me to notice. My God knows me.
So why should I spend day after day entrenched and fully engulfed and even paralyzed in constant fear of running my life over a cliff when I’m not in the driver’s seat anyway?
How much safer, perhaps, to move forward with confidence that I am where God wants me right now. And I will remain here confidently until he makes it clear that I ought to move. And when he wants me to get a new job, it will be clear. Wouldn’t I rather risk requiring God to speak a little louder–as he’s very well capable of doing, than to spend unknown units of energy, tiptoeing around in worry, fear, and anxiety that I–walking far in front of God–may be leading us down a wrong trail?
Pastor Kirk said that God is leading us. We are not leading God. What if, instead of anxiously trying to predict his will, I simply leaned back into trust and let him lead me with a firm and gentle hold on my hand? What if I settled confidently here for a minute–sure that, for now, I am where God wants me? And, in doing so, opened the opportunity to be fully present, fully grateful, fully alive in this moment, trusting God to guide me to the next one as the time arises?
Is not my big God capable of making his will known? And, if it’s trust–innocent and as best I can–that leads me to stay just a minute longer than perhaps I could’ve, so God himself has to pick me up and direct me–do I really think I will disappoint him? Will he be upset that I snuggled back against his warm chest and let myself find peace in his guidance? Will relaxing into his power and guidance truly offend him? Will I loose his goodwill if I stop trying to anticipate his plans and always be one step ahead?
Is it not my fear of missing out, of falling short, of missing my opportunity what leads me to white-knuckle-grasp this anxiety which, in turn, makes me carry the weight of the world? And then, is he impressed by the unnecessary load his princess is shouldering and does it bring him the pleasure and joy that I hope it will–to earn his love?
Am I seeking to please God or to trust him And does trusting require that I release this burden and instead snuggle surely into his mighty protection and wisdom?
Though it seem like the lazy thing, the foolish thing, the disappointing thing, what if being the most I could be and loving him the best I could really meant sitting here–right where I am in the retail job I have, in my parents house, with a counselor I’m uncertain of. Exactly here. And simply living it up? Finding joy in the here, not because I followed my plans to get here, not because I will impress God here, not because this is the summit of all my dreams, but because, at this point, this is where God led me.
And to trust him, rejoicing in the day he has made, I bring him the greatest glory, though my calendar contains no noteworthy events and my resume no impressive titles, is to bring him the greatest pleasure? Could I humble myself to accept this offer? Could I trust this enough to rest in it? Can I relieve myself of the weight of the world for just today? Maybe just this hour?
Is that what trust requires? The impossibly hard work of letting go and relaxing? Am I willing to test this journey and this way of life?