I’ve got trust issues.
I’ve always known this, but it’s been more apparent recently when I realized that I have a major life altering decision to make, and I was unsure of what to do.
In 45 or so days, I have to decide whether or not I stay in Phoenix or if I return to California.
I’ve been struggling with this decision for quite a while, but the catalyst for this decision came when I was asked by my landlord if I was willing to sign a year lease. She needs to know by December 1st. I found that after I talked to her, I was not willing to sign a year lease. In fact, the thought of committing myself to another year here and at my current job seemed downright awful. Committing myself to my job for another week turns my stomach.
After reading that, I know that you’re thinking, “There’s your answer. You should move.”
I wish it were that easy.
Both staying and leaving has its pros and cons, but neither decision paints a clear picture. When I realized that, I knew I had no one else to go to but to God, whom I should have went to first before I decided to uproot my life.
So I take my question to God- should I stay, or should I go? – And He tells me:
“It’s up to you. Either way, you’re going to have to trust me.”
It sounds so simple: “Just trust Him.” Yet, I am finding that completly trusting Him to see me through this is the scariest thing I have ever faced. It shouldn’t be. I am ashamed that although I call Him “Father” and know that Jesus is my savior, I still cannot fully trust Him. Seeing these thoughts about my trust in Him makes it even more disturbing. What is wrong with me that I can’t just let go, and let God take care of everything?
This is how I see our relationship:
I am reminded of a time that I am at the playground behind our house with my mother and sister. I’m about six years old, and I’ve decided to go on the slide that feels like 100 feet high. I stand at the top, the slide feels even higher and the way down even steeper. My mother stands at the bottom, coaxing me into sitting down and slide down to the bottom. She tells me, arms wide: “It’s okay; come down! I’ll catch you, I won’t let you fall!”
Eventually, I slide down but every time I feel myself going too fast, I stop myself by digging my feet into the sides of the slide. Yet my mother still waits at the bottom, arms wide, encouraging me all the way. Once I get to the bottom, I realize that it wasn’t so scary. I was never in any real danger.
I’m 28 and I am still digging my feet into the side of the slide. God still waits at the bottom, arms wide, smiling and telling me that I am safe. He will catch me, even if I happen to fall over the side. Yet the stakes seem too high and the risk too great.
I want to get to the place where I just fall into His arms willingly. I want to trust Him fully and know that I will be taken care of. I’m tired of being that six-year-old kid at the top of the slide.