Trust

"All sin is ultimately rooted in some sort of distrust."- Beth Moore

     When my son was a toddler, I couldn't get over the level of trust he had in me.  He would run right off the end of the bed, knowing I would catch him.  There were times I wasn't even watching and out of the corner of my eye I would see him flying off the bed and I would scramble to grab him before he hit the floor.  If I didn't, he would look at me completely crushed as if I had intentionally let him fall.  He took no responsibility for the mishap.
     This morning I was looking at a sweatshirt I bought and slopped oyster oil on before I even washed it once.  Automatically, I said, "Why God?"  He said, "Why are you asking me?"  I realized in that moment, I have always focused the blame on God for allowing things to happen to me, instead of placing the blame where it belongs.  I am the one who was careless enough to slop food down the front of me.
     Sometimes parents have to allow mistakes to be made for the sole purpose of learning.  The stove is hot, too much candy will give you a stomach ache, not doing your homework will get you a bad grade.  It's life. 
     I found at an early age, writing is a release.  In the fourth grade I would write stories that were passed from classmate to classmate.  As I got older I wrote to release some of the pain built up inside of me.  I stopped sharing as my writing became darker.  It had always been a part of my heart that I was putting down on paper and as the writing became darker with pain, I stopped sharing.  I didn't write for other people, I wrote for me.  I don't usually share what I wrote back then, but a poem I wrote years and years ago fits what God is talking to me about this morning.  We'll see how good my memory is.

Everyone views the world through their own window.
Each experience shapes their unique view
With each trauma, I pulled a bar into my window.
At seven the first bar was firmly placed
At eleven years old another bar was pulled into my view
One after another I placed the steel bars in my window,
until my view was blocked.
I press my face against the bars hoping for a clearer picture
I feel the cold steel against my skin as I struggle to see
As I pick up my pencil and begin to chip away at the mortar holding the bars firmly in place
I realize one day the bars will be removed
But when the sun shines through and rests in a square block on the floor
The shadows of the bars will always be there.

     Why do we build the walls of protection around ourselves.  The first time we are deeply wounded by betrayal we build a wall.  Shouldn't that wall be built between us and that one person only.  As they continue to hurt us, shouldn't the next three walls surround them, not us?   Eventually I put a roof on mine so I was unable to look up and see God.  The one small window I looked through was eventually sealed.  What if I built the walls around the person who hurt me, locking him away instead of myself.  I would still be free to trust others.  I would still be able to have healthy relationships.

     What if we forgot about walls all together?  Let them all fall down.  Forgive what has been done and put all of our trust in God alone?  What if we thought of trust as a ray of light that we only aimed toward God?  He would take our light beam of trust, add his will and strength and aim our trust where it needed to be focused moment by moment.  We can trust a person in one area and not another.  For instance, I can trust my sister with my life, my kids, my feelings, but I have a lot of trouble trusting her to show up on time.  

     At 31 and over 6 feet tall, my son might still be jumping off the bed, trusting God is the only one big enough to catch him.

“Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing had yet been done.”
― C.S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer