I didn’t trust God, but I kept it under wraps and put up a good front. I talked a good game and sang, “Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”
In all honesty though, when I got away from the crowd, laid aside my Sunday School answers, dropped my religious facade, and looked at my relationship with God, I had to admit that I didn’t trust Him. In all candor, I felt it best if He stayed on His side of the universe and I stayed on mine.
It took some time for me to realize that performing for God and doing the right things wouldn’t mask my trust issue from His notice. It’s silly to me now to think that I could hide my feelings from Him, but I wanted badly to keep from admitting such a heinous mistrust of my creator.
Ultimately, I confessed my distrust to God, which was emotionally helpful in that it got the issue into the open. But that’s as far as confession took me. In fact, once I admitted the problem it flared up with more intensity than ever.
Perhaps the Lord wanted to make sure I understood the scope of my skepticism. If that was the case, it worked. I told Him regularly that I was sinking in a stormy sea of distrust and that unless He intervened, calmed the waters and reached out to me, I would most certainly drown on my side of the pitching universe.
God began to answer my prayers for help, but as usual, not as I anticipated. I remained in a tunnel of uncertainty, knowing full well God was the light at its end. What I didn’t know was whether the light was His train coming to run me down like a grasshopper on the track or His lantern coming to guide me safely to the other side.
I hoped for a dynamic revelation that would eliminate my distrust. But, no such luck. Every so often I caught fleeting glimpses of God, but the wariness in my soul remained.
Some months after I confessed my trust issue to God I was answering questions after teaching a class at Nashville’s Brentwood Academy. I have no recollection of what question was posed, but remember as if it was yesterday turning to the board and writing, “You will never learn to trust God until your faith in God has been challenged.”
Whether I adequately answered the student’s question or not became of secondary importance. Written before me on the blackboard, in my own hand, was God’s initial answer to my quandary of distrust.
Next: What I did with my new definition.