I don’t get to see my friend Jessie often, but she occasionally sends me a note. The following is an email from Jessie:
Hey there, Tim! You are someone who has always inspired me with your relationship with God. I can admit that I yearn for that. As my life gets more chaotic, I feel doubt creeping into my heart. Not doubt that God exists, but doubt that he is involved in our everyday life. Doubt that he has a master plan for me. I seem to feel there is a person within me that God wants me to be, and the choices I make can help lead me to be that person.
We were given free will so we could choose God and choose to be that person he wants us to be.
Tim, I end up asking a lot of questions that I could never get answers to. Questions of his motives. Questions that have probably been asked since the beginning. Is there any advice you could provide to help me find peace with this doubt? I still feel God’s profound love within me. But sometimes I get so down on myself I cannot find it. Any prayers or advice you could give would be most appreciated.
My reply was as follows:
Well, first of all, let me tell you that I think about you and how we used to sit down in the catacombs of Doubletree Veterinary Clinic. I remember how I loved taking care of the pooches with you, even if our most common chore was cleaning kennels.
Never does a holiday go by when I don’t think of the recipe you gave me as I prepare pumpkin-swirl cheesecake. Still a family tradition.
But believe it or not, my best memory of you is Prissy. Remember her? The little five-year-old Boston terrier we rescued who had been horribly abused and neglected. She had sustained a broken leg that Dr. Peck tried valiantly to mend. We never could get it to heal. Finally, we were forced to amputate. I wanted to change her name to Tripod. But we still called her Prissy.
I remember her eyes and nose with an angry infection, and we cleaned her up and put meds in those wounds several times a day.
I took her home, basically because I held her pretty much the whole time I was at work, carrying that precious girl everywhere. For two years, I was privileged to love on her, feed her, and let her curl up with me at night. She finally knew she was safe. I had an old sweater that she claimed and carried with her like Linus’s blanket.
And I remember the day, after all that work and love, when I found a bump on her head. After x-rays, we learned she would not be with us much longer because of bone cancer. She made it another six months or so. I came home one night to find her gone, curled up on my old sweater.
I remember carrying her to the clinic the next morning, tears flowing, and laying her on the exam table, wrapped in that silly old sweater she loved so much.
Heartbroken, I questioned why God would allow her to endure so much suffering only to die just when she knew she was loved and safe and could feel secure enough to trust. She was nothing but a pile of love.
My most vivid memory of that day is walking downstairs to take care of other dogs that were boarding with us. You were already there, and when I told you Prissy was gone, you wrapped your arms around me and whispered, “No one could have loved Prissy the way you did.”
Jessie, that was all I needed to move through the pain of losing that sweet dog.
When I read your note yesterday, of course I remembered that tender moment. Honestly, after all these years, I still don’t think of it without getting misty-eyed.
I don’t know that I have a one-size-fits-all answer to the question of doubt. We all have differing life experiences and come at and move toward our relationship with God from so many distinct and divergent train tracks. I can tell you how I think it works for me, though. Maybe it will help some.
I have always believed in God. Always. There’s never been a doubt in my mind that he is the Creator of the universe, that he did everything he said he did, that Jesus is his Son and did everything he said he did, that he is all-powerful, that he is watching me and has a specific unique plan for me, and that he loves me.
But possibly, probably because I correlated my relationship with my heavenly Father with that of my earthly father, I was programmed not to trust God.
That was the big subconscious question: Is he reliable? Is he honest? If he is, why do I not feel like he’s active in my life? I felt guilt for my futile attempt to find fault with him because I couldn’t trust his motives. My head knew that he was never too good to be true. He is absolutely good and true.
My strongest desire was that I wanted my heart to follow. I finally figured out that I was waiting for him to prove he is trustworthy, when in fact, everything about life screams it.
I decided that if he is trustworthy, I needed to stop trying to understand his intentions on my own. Stop trying to control my definition of who he is supposed to be. Stop trying to create him in my image. I needed him to know that I will believe and practice trust, even when it seems counter to everything I think I need or want. It’s not always a feel-good moment, since many of those are, at best, superficial satisfaction.
Jessie, it’s a habit. I wake up every day and tell him that I will choose to trust him today. I purposefully memorize Bible verses that call for trust. And let me tell you, having a scripture or two close by has made an extraordinary difference. A couple of my favorites. Joshua 1:9 (NIV) says, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” What I love about this verse is that he doesn’t ask or plead with us not to be afraid. He commands it. It’s not a request; it’s a proclamation, an imperative that demands trust. And trust is not something that comes naturally to us in a culture that breeds mistrust.
Again, it’s a habit. And while God builds trust, I spend an abundance of time asking for patience while he perfects it in me. I find myself affirming my belief in his absolute good motives for my life on a daily basis. I trust his plan because I trust his love. I trust his love because I choose to give up control of my desires and what I think I need, even my dreams. Nothing in our society would teach us that this makes sense or is even appropriate.
Everything about my relationship is based on the idea that God is, in fact, the only trustworthy being in all of existence. Every person, every government, every idea, and even every religion will, in some way, disappoint. Only belief in the One dependable, honest, powerful God is worthy of our trust.
I read a book a long time ago with a chapter titled “The Adequacy of God.” Again, our culture would see the word adequacy and define it as “just okay” or “barely up to par.” But when I looked it up, I realized my definition of God needed to be more adequate: “as much or as good for some requirement or purpose; fully sufficient, suitable, or fit.” For me, my trust in him, the habit of trusting him, is adequate. He is entirely sufficient. His trustworthiness is appropriate, as is his desire to be found trustworthy.
I find ways every day to tell him that I will choose to give up my control and trust him. When I drive to work, I tell him, “Today I will trust you.” When I have to make hard decisions, I seek out community and, yes, trust, because I know where and from whom they build their confidence. Every time I tithe, I pray, “I trust you.” When I catch myself trying to control my dreams and wants, I sit back, take a deep breath, and say, “I’m sorry. You take control. I trust you.”
I wish I could tell you I have this down to a fine art. But I fall. And then I get up and give control back to him again. And the amazing thing I find is that the reason I desire to trust him more is because I desire a relationship with him more.
You don’t develop trust with God and come out unscathed. I can’t take time to think about how I feel or about my circumstances. I have to focus on his character, his motives. I don’t ignore my pain or confusion. I just remember that he is adequate. He fits my environment. In that moment and in that experience, he is good. And it’s easier to give him control because I can give him the glory. And I find great joy in that.
Jessie, his motives for you are not just loving and right and wise. They are pure. Here is another of my favorite verses: “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him, graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? … No, in all these things, we are more than conquers through Him who loved us” (Romans 8:31–37 NKJV).
As hard as it may seem to us in the midst of the struggle, everything God does is wise and loving.
God is for you, Jessie. Don’t attempt to trust him because it’s the right thing to do. Trust him because he’s God. Trust him because he loves you. Don’t trust him expecting to understand his plan. Just believe that he has one. Trust that he is working it out with your best interest foremost in his mind. And believe that more often than not, that plan will be unveiled in a mind-blowing, ridiculously breathtaking, astonishing, anfractuous direction that you never expected. You will delight in the surprise of seeing your dreams and needs unfold in ways you couldn’t have thought of on your own. You will breathe deep and nod with the satisfaction of knowing it was perfect for you. It’s the only way it could happen to instill a gentle trust that leads to a more profound love and relationship with him.
He’s good. He’s so good. He longs for you to know it and fully live it. One last verse, and I’ll leave you alone. This is one of my top-five verses. It’s Zephaniah 3:17 (NIV): “The LORD your God is with you, the mighty warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you, in His love He will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”
You can trust him because he takes great delight in you. He doesn’t yell at you. He believes in you. He is intimately interested in you and has great plans for you, even if you don’t easily see them now.
You said there is a person in you that you think God wants you to be, and your choices will help determine who that person is supposed to be. Jessie, you are already that person. He used his vast imagination to make you unique from any other human who has ever lived. The only thing you need to do is—and here’s the simple answer—live your life in relationship with him. It’s similar to what you said to me a long time ago. No one could have loved you like he does.
Practice trust.
Practice trust, and listen for the song. He has one for you, you know. Your very own song sung by the One who breathes out stars into his ever-expanding universe.
I have no authoritative reference, but I’m relatively certain my tune is a hybrid of Dan Fogelberg; Donna Summer; and Earth, Wind, and Fire, with just a soupçon of Barry Manilow.
Jessie, that same God is singing your very own song over you right now. When that truth becomes more than a fleeting idea, you will walk without shame or fear, doubt or mistrust. Your days will be cool, God will be your friend, and you will experience a bit of heaven right here on earth.
The most precious discovery? It was never about you. It was all for his glory. He is rejoicing over you. If that alone is not worthy of our trust, I don’t know what is.
Love you,
Tim
