He has become my salvation.
- Psalm 118: 14
Trust is a concept I can't understand. Just today I hopped off the breakers onto Plymouth beach. Bounced on the sand and quickly turned my swagger into a respectable gait. The day's air called for life to be lived in slow motion. All the songs were slow. Depressing in a way.
And have you ever stuck your hand out a car window on a rainy day while you're traveling 80 mph home? It's like you're meant to beat the rain home. Like a race. But it's futile I guess. Child's play.
The best kind of play. The type of play where you invent your own games. Where the floor is lava or hot coals or a giant grey rug swamp filled with Loch Ness Monster- sized crocodiles ready to devour any poor little boy who's foot slips from the book shelf immediately causing a chain reaction of the four foot statured body falling to the ground.
Then each drop is like a thousand bees attacking your hand. But it's cool to the touch. And it calms all your nerves. And it's mesmerizing as the stingers wash your hand. Each drawing its own path gliding this way and that like Causeway Street then Portland Ave, Fairmont and Meridian all woven together. Then they brush themselves off the surface like rain from a wind shield.
Driving in the rain.
Trust. It's those slow motion moments. It's those moments when nothing can be got or nothing can be gained or lost or found - and it's all just trust.
I sat up in the cemetery after talking to my boss. It took ages to climb the steps. Each step like its own Everest. Passing grave for grave. Like I was walking to my death.
I walked to a desolate place to find the Lord. I clung to my Bible. And I clung to the Bible. And I held so tight to the Word of God knowing I could do nothing else.
I sat silent. Stared out to trees in the way. And oceans beyond the graves where horizons melt with waves and waves to land under fog and cloud. I sat with nothing; the Lord found me there.
I had nothing in me. Nothing about me. I was nothing. And in nothing trust remains.
I can't see beyond the ocean, but I know my home lies out there.
I don't know what awaits me except a life God's orchestrated.
I have nothing except a trust in the Lord for provision.
I have trust, but I don't even know it. It seems as though it should be an action taken on my part, but I've taken nothing and still I trust.
God still met me in the graveyard. I found God among desolation. I'm not sure if I was even seeking the Lord. At least, not in any conscious way. But my soul screamed for my Maker. My heart cried out. And the rest of me was completely oblivious.
I guess this is trust. Trust as an unknown occurrence. Something naturally happening. And, in a way, it is simple. As is much of life, we just don't realize it.
We trust in the smallest of things, but never acknowledge it. We take breath for breath knowing the air will still be there for another naturally consumed oxygen gulp. "Gulp" isn't the best word though because it suggests thought put to action like we had to think about inhaling such a massive amount instead of letting our lungs do what comes so naturally - breathing.
And, so in this same way, trust is a natural occurrence in a person's life. It simple happens. Take this concept back to the day of our birth, and trust is actually the only thing a person has. But it's done as easily and naturally as that very first gasp for air.
Trust is not the safety net itself; it is that particular hope in another person - no matter who that person is - to meet you wherever you're at. Whether you're falling off the face of the earth or standing side-by-side walking through life together.
Trust takes nothing, but asks for much. It is the lead in the Fox Trot. And it asks for the partner to follow.
Trust is emotional. It doesn't cancel out emotion. It is not a swell in the sea. It's not a wave breaking crashing roaring down with all it's fury till the tide calls it back. Trust is neither the ebb nor the flow to life. It is not the chaos or the calm.
Trust is the under current to life. It is the rip tide you could never feel at Horseneck beach. And I always wondered why dad wouldn't let me swim in certain areas of the beach. Why he would always stick close or why mom always stood ankle deep watching over us as we swam. They kept us close because they knew the power of the undertow and how it can sweep someone away in an instant.
And in a way, this is how trust is. You don't even know it's there. Most of the time we're completely ignorant of it's existence in our life. But trust is our rip tide.
You see, it's a matter of swimming out into the unknown. And I think it's fair to say that plenty of times it's not our taking some sort of crazy chance that brings us in contact with the rip tide. More often than not, it's like we're thrown out there. We're just given over to the waves. Blind sided. Life comes at us quicker than we can handle.
But that's when trust kicks in.
I mean, we're already part of the tip tide so why not just let it carry us where it will?
No comments:
Post a Comment