#2

Why am I so quick to put answers in Your mouth?

Is it really impatience, or is it something deeper? Maybe I’m afraid I won’t like the answer You give. I didn’t like the last one You gave me.

“Wait.”

The one before that? “Not yet.”

Sometimes You give me answers that seem to misunderstand how pressing my need is.

“Just hold on.”

Other times You answer me with a question of Your own. “Do you trust me?”

I’ve concluded I probably can’t handle the reason why. My heart’s pretty confident the ‘why’ is either too big for me to comprehend, or it’s just not the timing for me to know. I wish that stopped my brain from coming up with ideas, though.

So, where do I go from here? What am I left with if I’m not playing a one-sided guessing game?

I hear you say, “blindly trust,” but I wish that wasn’t what I heard. I don’t even know how to do that. Because I have questions. And the people that care about me have questions. And the doctors have questions. And did I mention my brain just doesn’t stop?

“How’re you doing?” they’ll say. Oh, I’m blessed and highly favored. “How’s your health?” they might ask. Well, by His stripes, I am healed. “So you’re healed then? You’re all better?” Religion tells me to have faith, so I can’t say no, but I’m also not supposed to lie, so what do I say? What should my responses be?

Do I just isolate and avoid? Stay away from anyone that might have questions I can’t answer? Stick with my little tribe that expects nothing of me but expects miracles from You on my behalf? Actually, I’m pretty comfortable with that idea.

I don’t believe You’re displeased with me feeling that way, but I also don’t foresee it being possible. Whether that’s You giving me eyes to see or just assumption based on my experience being alive, I’m not quite sure.

So if I can’t avoid everyone, and I certainly can’t avoid my own brain – You know how hard I’ve tried –how am I supposed to blindly trust when I have no answers, no timeframe? Practically, what is this blind trust supposed to look like? Since I can’t see the miracle, can’t see the evidence, can’t see the time, the place, or method, I think I’ve got the blind part down. I may not like it, but at least it’s somewhere I’m excelling.

That second word, though. What does it even mean to trust?

I can look up the definition, and I have. It means to firmly believe in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something. And I’m able to do that…for a time. And then my trust gets a bit wishy-washy or rusty or maybe a bit of both.

I prayed for relief at that moment. I believed it would happen. But the relief didn’t come. Maybe I trusted in the relief more than I trusted in You.

I asked for a breakthrough. Fully trusted it would come. It still hasn’t.

I went to bed hoping tomorrow I would wake up healed. I told my body that I’ve spoken by faith and that faith gives substance to my hope. But when I woke up, the pain was so loud, taunting me for daring to believe.

How do I shift my trust from things I can see and feel – relief, breakthrough, healing – to intangible You?

I wish I could touch You. I desperately want You to be here in the flesh with Your arms wrapped around me. Sure, it’s two-fold. I know I’d be healed if You touched me. No part of my body could brush against perfection and not be made whole, entirely restored, and well. But maybe if I could take in the compassion etched into Your face, the tenderness in Your eyes, the warmth of Your love permeating every part of me like the first warm day of spring after a painfully cold winter…maybe then I’d be able to trust You blindly.

I guess that wouldn’t be blind, though, huh?

I probably won’t stop asking You to show up in the flesh. I guess it’s part of my process, my quest toward blind trust. I don’t have it locked in yet. And I don’t think I ever will. Perfection  – that’s Your character trait, not mine.

I still hope for healing and breakthrough. I hope for them with every tired, weary bit of my body.

But I also hope to make You proud. I’ll fight to blindly trust. I can’t promise I won’t try to put answers in Your mouth. Can’t promise I won’t feel let down each day that healing doesn’t come.

Yet I promise to listen for Your whisper – even if it’s “blindly trust.”

Song of the day: Growing Pains Pt. 1 & 2 by Elevation Rhythm