This post has been off for awhile because I don’t really know how to say what I want to say. Nothing feels quite the same as it has ever felt before. These days I worry more than usual about circumstances outside of my control. I know Christians aren’t supposed to worry, or admit that we worry, but I do. Friends are losing jobs– and not just a few people but a lot of people. The job offer that Jonathan and I were so happy to receive in December? It’s now gone. The papers report loss after loss. We’ve got droughts, and furloughs, and bad news around every corner. It’s tough to stay positive when everyone is so, so, down.
In these times there are certain habits Jonathan and I cling to that make us feel safe. We bundle up to take long walks around our neighborhood’s dark sleep streets where we talk out our future until we’re too cold to be worried.
In my quiet moments where I can let my mind really wander and worry, I subconsciously ask, “What, or who, can we trust?” I’ll be honest. My first thought isn’t the Father, Son, or Holy Spirit. Oh sure, I know that’s what I’m supposed to say. But it’s so much easier to put our trust in the tangible. Here we have a community that has stood by us, and will continue to. We’ve joked that if all of us lose our jobs we’ll just move into Sam and Sharon’s house until we kill each other. I don’t think most of us really think that would happen, but in our moments of deepest insecurity, I know we could make it work if we had to.
Other days, we begin to put our trust in the plans we make, and undo, and re-do. (Europe? Hmmm…maybe in few summers. Buying a house? Nah. Purchasing a car that was made after the year 2000… no way.) We’re staying put. Working hard. Holding our breaths.
Sometimes I even put my trust into patterns of history. I tell my husband and our friends without jobs– “You guys are smart, hard working, creative people. The economy always turns around. Someday we’ll look back on this time and tell our children about 2009 when we all barely made it by.”
But these things, these people, these plans are all temporarily. They are not 100%. They are not a foundation. They are like building a house on sand that can so easily wash away.
I’m trying to learn how to trust God. Period. I don’t have it figured out yet. It’s easier to just work harder, and attempt to save, and make the back-up plans to live with Sam and Sharon. All these actions are probably very responsible and wise. But if the foundation is sand, they won’t be good enough.
So, I continue to ask, “Lord, how do I really trust you alone?” I’ll let you know when I’ve got it figured out. Don’t expect to hear back from on that one anytime soon.