I originally wrote this as a verbally-delivered devotional piece, but I really wanted to share it here.
There is something amazing to me about our absence of trust.
Although, it is often reasoned, from personal experiences and generalized ideas from those moments of breached security. Valid reasoning, nonetheless, because people tend to run in similar circles and in the same habituation of patterns we’d most love to get rid of altogether from the face of the earth. But isn’t it human nature to just keep doing what we hate, and seeing what we hate, and living through it anyway.
“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.”
Paul’s words bring blinding light to the human condition and our lack of ability to trust even ourselves, so why look anywhere else because if I cannot trust me, looking out more closely than anyone else for my own good, where can I go?
I will trust no one.
It is the moment they lied. The moment they took from you what only you should have been able to choose to give. The moment they revealed what you had asked to keep hidden. The moment they left. The moment they said you were too much or too little—not enough and too much all at once.
And it is in the moments—the smallest moments, we lose great things hidden away in our minds—the lens of others’ innocence and presuppositions of goodness flee quickly as we run to cover ourselves because the shame of our nakedness, unbearable, we will keep blanketed.
The blankets we find are shame to cover our out of control-ness, nakedness, uncertainty, guilt, and pains of any and all kinds imaginable. Because every time, someone will get too close without my blanket and someone will come to know me, and they will say I am Not Good Enough—I am Too Bad, I am Too Guilty, I am Too Unworthy, I am Not What I Want To Be, I am Not Enough. I am Not Enough—who am I? Not Enough.
I capitalized the words written after the “I am’s”—because every single one of them is a name I have so gracelessly allowed myself to claim. It is a capitalized name, a proper noun, that has screamed my separation from Who I Want To Be and Who I Am. I capitalized those, too: Who I Want To Be and Who I Am. Those are people in my mind’s eye, in the world, wandering through my mind—those Now’s and Not Yet’s of Me. They aren’t me. They aren’t me.
I cannot trust the identities I speak over Me.
They were looking for Elisha. The enemies of Israel—hunting him down. There was not one way out. God’s promise. Called, I am Called, I am Called. Trust Him, Trust Him, Trust Him. It will be okay, Trust Him, He is the God of Miracles and God of The Promise.
“When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. “Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?” the servant asked. “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. As the enemy came down toward him, Elisha prayed to the Lord, “Strike this army with blindness.” So he struck them with blindness, as Elisha had asked. Elisha told them, “This is not the road and this is not the city. Follow me, and I will lead you to the man you are looking for.” And he led them to Samaria. After they entered the city, Elisha said, “Lord, open the eyes of these men so they can see.” Then the Lord opened their eyes and they looked, and there they were, inside Samaria. When the king of Israel saw them, he asked Elisha, “Shall I kill them, my father? Shall I kill them?” “Do not kill them,” he answered. “Would you kill those you have captured with your own sword or bow? Set food and water before them so that they may eat and drink and then go back to their master.” So he prepared a great feast for them, and after they had finished eating and drinking, he sent them away, and they returned to their master. So the bands from Aram stopped raiding Israel’s territory.”
I imagine the servant:
I watched as thousands of flaming signals of faithfulness surrounded my eyes. For this was not the game of man, nor a game of uncertainty, of maybe this is the time when trusting will be worth it; this was no game at all. The prophet spoke, and into my own soul, God ignited His sight, and my mind was put to rest, my soul eased into abnormal peace—only abnormal, though, to those unable to see the flaming fires of everything in which I had trusted. So here I stand; faithfulness beside me.
There is more to me than what has been taken, abused, disregarded, misused. There is more to what I have told myself is unable to be loved or wanted.
There is always more.
And that’s it—the More, the Greater, the Enoughness; it is in one place Who has been compared with fleeting friendships, unfaithful fathers, abusive mothers, addicted siblings—
He is none of those—He is Steadfast, Faithful, Never-Failing, Filled With Grace, Kind, Love.
There is no place to go but to Him—where else would we run? For nothing can fill like this Love—it doesn’t just fill, it overflows, and this is the part I love the most:
He is Every Enough. He is Trust. His Essence is woven with threads of Trustworthy, from eternal to eternal His own hands of love reach across the divide we’ve created to redeem, restore, and redefine the identities we’ve spoken over our lives and those we’ve spoken over others.
This is the Good News: He is Love, He is Trustworthiness, He is Faithfulness, He is over all and in all and through all and without Him there is Nothing At All.
Yes, this is the Good News, the Every Enough, the God Who Sees Us, He has done the absolute most to redeem everything mankind has broken.
And this is our story—the Inheritance of Enoughness. You are Enough because He is Enough.
And He is Who you can put your trust in dearest Child Enough.