In the Hands of Trust

DSC_0379I would really love if someone could explain, in an incredibly simple way, why it is so hard to trust God when I have seen His faithfulness over and over again.

He is Healer.

He is Father.

He is Love.

He is Peace.

He is Good.

He is Trust.

I always find it funny when God is called trustworthy—He is not just trustworthy; He is the very essence of Trustworthy—the very essence of Trust.

Yet, over and over again, I look at the back of the Eternity Tapestry, being weaved by the heart of a Loving Father, and see all the knots, loose thread, and inconsistent patterns and believe that if I cannot see everything right now, maybe He is not Trust.

As if, in my temporary, minuscule, noneternal perspective, I can determine the depth of the Goodness of God.

It’s like deciding how a book is going to end when I am unwilling to finish actually reading the book—I’ve made up my own, untrue ending because I don’t want to have to trust the author to write it correctly.

But what I have forgotten in trying to write my own ending to this book is that I do not know the characters, setting, plot, action, or any other element of the story so intimately as the Author does.

Nothing comes of making up these endings except anxiety and all-encompassing, destructive, intrusive fear.

Nothing comes of making up these endings but everything in my mind–anxiousness and depression.

There is victory; do I not want there to be?

Do I really think that living a long life is better if it brings less people into eternal life?

Do I really think I know well enough the mind of God to determine any tragedy to be the true end of joy and goodness?

Do I really think I am powerful enough to prevent bad things happening by worrying?

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?”

I think part of me really believes that being afraid will add time to my life; in fact, I know I believe that.

When I’m on the freeway, I firmly convince myself that if I am more afraid, I will be a better driver because I’ll be so scared about getting hurt, I will pay the utmost attention.

A little secret, fear does not make you a better driver; it makes you a jumpier one.

Life is so temporary, and maybe I will die young and maybe I won’t

That’s not really for me to worry about, and it’s a waste of time if I do. It’s a waste of time to worry about that minuscule moment between life now and eternity.

If I really believe “To live is Christ to die is gain,” there is no fear to live in because I know things just keep getting better as I get closer to the day when I get to see Him face to face.

I would really love to not live in fear, and I’m guessing you don’t really want to either.

What joy lies beyond the grave—what joy lies beyond the grave of our fear; what joy lies beyond the grave of our distrust; what joy lies beyond the grave of our attempt to control everything; what joy lies even beyond the death of our own selves.

There is beauty when we let things go. When we let our fear die.

There is more to life than death.


With Love,


3 thoughts

  1. This is really good Hannah. More times than I want to admit I lose my trust in God because I can’t see the bigger picture. I only see the now and it hurts. Only he sees the whole picture with the last piece being painted as I ascend to heaven.

    Liked by 2 people

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