Trust, even Afflicted

One of the first concrete experiences I could point to when I I began looking for  ways God asks my trust in Him was one I couldn’t even remember, and yet I knew it was certain: my adoption.

My adoption was the first indication of God’s love for me, but really it began at conception and the decision of the young woman who carried me not to terminate her pregnancy. God was at work through all that, and yet it took me almost half a lifetime to have my eyes opened to it.

I am enriched with that knowledge—there are moments when it overwhelms me—of being a life choice by someone I will never know. And yet, my trust can still flag in ‘dark’ moments that pull me away from trusting God, despite that He’s shown me a most impressive love in my being here on this earth. It’s those dark moments that cause me to teeter toward falling or tumbling into disbelief and doubting God hears me when I call out.

This is a real area of concern for me, as I’m currently working through a personal quagmire that’s lasted many months and at times brought great despair. I’ve found myself asking how can a God so good be so silent to my pleas. Am I the one spoken of in the Psalm for the Afflicted? (Psalm 102). In truth, there has been more good than bad in my life, yet I still wrestle with doubt, wondering where God is leading me, and how I’m to confidently walk with Christ. I haven’t yet seized the surety—the unfailing absoluteness—of not doubting God’s plan, and that pains me.

I long to develop a spirit that’s stronger than my doubts, one that recognizes the promise and context of Psalm 46:10 to “Be still and Know that I Am God.” In my stillness as an infant I never crawled…I went straight to pulling myself up on nearby furniture and walking.

My goal on my earthly journey is to pull myself up and walk in trust with Christ.

State of Readiness

A few years ago, my husband and I redid our family room — basically the hub for our TV watching. At the time, I found the perfect accessory in a reproduction antique wall clock but, like most things today, it hasn’t lasted very well and, eventually, it’s stopped working.

I’ve spent countless hours over the past year trying to get it working again, even replacing the clock movement, which worked for a short time before it again stopped keeping time. I can reposition the clock hands, and it will work for an hour or two, and then woefully decline, so when glancing at it the true time is unknown. This scenario reminds me of the biblical caution that Jesus has given us, that we  “do not know the day or hour” of His return.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the everyday moments that direct our lives, the things that we think important at any given time, the moments where we let down our guard and lose track of the very thing we have been cautioned against. And it’s a subtle reminder, each time I see the clock that I’ve now all but stopped trying to fix (and it may subconsciously be the reason I no longer feel the necessity to fix), that the time may be later than I think to fix the things in my life that have stopped working. None of us know the hour of His coming, whether we have a clock to mark the time or a conscience that is keen on hinting that the hour is drawing near.