Trust

I have a confession. I have a control problem.

I like to plan everything. I like to have plan A, B, C, D, E and F. Listen, I want a contingency for the contingency. I like to know that I have all bases covered, and nothing can go wrong.

Except…

That’s not possible. Something always goes wrong. You always forget some detail. Or, you’re simply frozen in place, never getting done what you need to get done because you’re too busy planning for perfection that simply isn’t attainable.

Let me tell you the work God is doing in me right now.

When I say He has decided that it’s truly time for me to tackle this perfectionism and trust issue that I have, I may be understating things a bit.

So, there were a few lessons here, that I really want to bring out.

• The process has been painful. Very painful. But I was reading the Mark retelling of the rich man who asks Jesus what he should do to inherit eternal life. This one is different in that it highlights something specific after Jesus gives him the answer to which he replies that he’s done all this since he was a child. “And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest: go, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.” Jesus gave him the hard truth because he loved him. This is important. Like a loving parent, God will allow the harsh consequences of our choosing to go outside His will, to do things our own way to shake us up so that we can live our perfect purpose—the one He has for us. And no, I’m not talking about sin, although sin could count. I’m talking about when He sees us off the path that is best for our well-being, that of our family or that of our relationship with Him–when sees us off the path of our gift and how it could best affect those we’re meant to touch. It doesn’t always mean you did something “wrong.” It can mean you just aren’t trusting His guidance, and you’re relying too heavily on your own voice. I found myself in the exact same situation for a second time—well, maybe not exact, but way too similar to make sense. I knew that I hadn’t done the obvious things to end up there. I had to reevaluate—what did I miss the first time that brought me back to this point?

• Taking everything to God means even admitting when you have trust issues (or when you’re mad at him or have some questions you think you shouldn’t have). You can’t move past a problem if you don’t first admit the problem. And let me let you in on something—He already knows, and the fact you aren’t talking about it is just a big elephant in the room. It needs to be addressed. So, I said, “God, I know you can do anything, I’ve seen you do so much. You’ve never let me down. But you know me. I’m having a problem fully letting go right now. Help me.” That was the first step. I mean, we aren’t there yet, but some real walls are coming down. So yeah, He already knows. Who better to ask for help with that thing that’s really standing in the way of progress?

• Specific to my situation, let’s call this voice that asks me to solve every problem exactly what it is. I say I’m going to trust God, and then something unexpected happens or something doesn’t happen when I think it should and I hear “What are you going to do if X falls through?” And you know who that is? I’m ashamed to say it took a devotional to point out to me that that voice is none other than the deceiver, asking me to question what I’ve been assured: the battle is not mine (by the way, the best way to answer the deceiver is as our Lord did: it is written…). My job is to move how I’ve been directed (faith + works) and wait for God to do the rest. Stop trying to solve everything. If I’ve moved how I’ve been told, then that’s all that’s needed. He’s got it. And the more I believe it, the more it’s done. I always come back to Jesus’s hometown when I think about God’s power—He didn’t do many miracles there because of THEIR unbelief. Not that He couldn’t—He was the same Jesus. He just DIDN’T. Oh, but if you just have mustard seed faith…

So I’m learning. I’m not naïve enough to think that I will achieve perfection here—it’s one of my many thorns. But I’m working on it. And hopefully, if I’m not the only one, one of you will join me.