Trust. Scripture reveals that we can trust God in all things (Proverbs 3:5), but it can still be difficult at times. We tell ourselves, Trust! But we lack hope. We tell ourselves, God will deal with it! But then we falter and engage in worry.
In the film The Hunger Games: Mockingjay–Part 1, Katniss Everdeen, the face of the revolution against the evil Capitol, is attacked and strangled unconscious by her beloved friend, Peeta. When she comes to, Katniss’ friends inform her that the Capitol had brainwashed Peeta. Before letting him be rescued, they used fear conditioning to turn him into a weapon designed to kill her.
With her heart pounding, she leaned her back against the door. Her thoughts reeled as she thought through her next move. Accustomed to seeing men enter her doorway covertly, she wasn’t surprised by the stealthy moves of her two visitors (Joshua 2:1). After all, she was Rahab, a prostitute. But when the two men crossed the threshold of her home, their imposing figures indicated they were not there for business as usual. She now found herself face to face with two men of an altogether different kind.
An article in the business magazine Fast Company suggests that most people choose to spend time with people much like themselves. Why? Because life seems less complicated when we’re surrounded by people who agree with us, think like us, and possess similar values.
Whenever my boys feel shame or are uncomfortable, they’ll often look away or bury their head in their chest. If they’re wearing a hoodie, they’ll pull it over their head, as if trying to become invisible. I have a similar impulse. When I’m ashamed or feel vulnerable, defeated, or hopeless, it’s easy to try to hide. With my sons, I draw close to them and calmly say, “Look up at me. I need to see your eyes.”
Waiting in a long line to ride a roller coaster, I considered turning back several times. When it was finally my turn to board, the safety bar in the seat I was to occupy wouldn’t release properly. I was afraid of getting stuck, but I hopped in anyway. When the safety bar came down too tightly on my lap, I felt trapped and scared! I considered waving my hand and asking to be excused from the ride. But an attendant announced over the loudspeaker, “You can scream and you can shout, but there’s no way we’ll let you out.”
Howling winds, booming thunderclaps, and lightning flashes tend to make me nervous, even when I’m sheltered in a safe, dry place. Gentle rain showers I can handle. It’s the clamor and din of an intense storm that get me. So Jesus could well have been speaking to me when He asked His disciples, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?” (Mark 4:40).
There’s a children’s song that goes, “Don’t you worry and don’t you fret, you know God has never failed you yet.” The same God who delivered the Israelites out of slavery can be trusted to go ahead of us—never failing or abandoning His children (Deuteronomy 31:6).
When was the last time you lingered in silence simply to delight in the beauty of God? One Christian artist thinks that “beholding” His beauty is essential in a Christian’s life. Writer Joseph Sunde, in a blog post titled “Beauty on a Bike Ride,” quoted artist Mako Fujimura as saying: “Perhaps the greatest thing we can do as a Christian community is to behold. Behold our God. Behold His creation.”
When I visited the land of Israel, I was surprised by the small size of the Sea of Galilee. This was no sea, but merely a lake some 21 kilometers long and 13 kilometers wide. I could easily see across to the other side. How could a storm on this tiny body of water terrify the disciples? Talk about a tempest in a teapot! I scoffed at their fear—until I saw the size of an ancient boat.
As a child, I worried about making friends at school. As a college student, I worried about getting work after graduation. Today, I worry about the health of my parents and if my books will sell.
My wife and I have arrived at that poignant age when we can’t believe how quickly time has passed—especially while looking at one of my favorite videos of our oldest son, taken when he was just 2 years old. Miska and I had gone out for a date, and the kid-sitter shot a short video of our boy clinging to the bottom ledge of the living room window. He was just tall enough to peek over the edge. As he watched us get in our car and drive away, he said, “Momma. Dadda.” There was an anxious longing in his voice. Our son was sad to see us go and eager for us to return.
It was early spring and the ice on Lake Michigan had thawed. After a long, cold winter, a few of us hardy anglers were eager to fish again. As we hit the water, the skies were sunny and the massive lake was calm. Conditions were ideal, but not for long. Shortly after setting our lines, the wind kicked up. It didn’t take long for it to start getting uncomfortably “nautical.” Before the waves could build to dangerous heights, we reluctantly pulled in our lines, fired up the boat engine, and motored back toward the quiet harbor waters.