When it comes right down to it, I don't trust God. Not really. Not in the way everyone seems to think I ought.
I realized this yesterday as I sat in the waiting room of the surgery center, turning the pages of my book and counting the minutes, checking the time again and again as I waited for the doctor to come and tell me all was well.
It was a routine, low-risk, standard kind of surgery in which very little could go wrong, and Jonathan is young and healthy without any heart or lung issues. Chances of any major mishap were very, very slim. I knew all this, knew it without a doubt, and yet the worst-case scenarios kept running around in the back of my head, making general spectacles of themselves despite my best efforts to tamp them down by immersing myself in my book. I wasn't worried, per se, not really, but still those what ifs niggled.
I know the mantra is that I should trust in God, just as I should trust Him with having a plan for my life, just as I should trust His timing and His guidance and His providential hand. I know I should trust Him. The birds and the lilies bear testimony.
But I don't. At least, not enough so that those worst-case scenarios don't rear their ugly heads, not enough so that I don't consider what might come, not enough so that I can bid my worries cease.
Because here's the truth: there are plenty of people who trust God, who have that monumental, amazing, incredible faith I wish I had, who never doubt, never flounder, never question - there are plenty of these kinds of people who have had those they love die on the operating table, or in tragic car accidents, or from unexpected disease. There are plenty of people who have put their lives into His hands, only to face disappointment and sorrow and heartache, who have relied on His providence and gone hungry, who have followed what they thought was God's will and failed miserably.
Oh, I've heard the miraculous stories of money showing up when there was none, of food coming at just the right time, of ministry doors staying open against all odds. But I've also heard of the times when the money didn't show up, when the food din't come, when ministries had to close their doors, and what if this was one of those times? How do I know whether I am in a place where God is going to provide or where He is going to let me fall?
I know there is learning to be had in the falling, that there is grace in the pain, that faith grows in the tough times. I know that He will give me the strength to face what comes, the ability to praise Him during the darkest night, the hope to carry on. I trust Him for these things, though deep down I hope I am never in a place where I have to prove such faith.
But trusting Him to heal my loved ones, to bring them through surgery, to keep them safe from harm? Trusting Him to provide work and food and shelter, to answer those yearnings of my heart that I believe are placed there by Him? I don't know that I have that kind of faith.