Trust With Bated Breath

The truth of trust is a gloriously dynamic beauty that has been the source of brilliant union or cause of crushing isolation. To say, “I trust you” is to offer a bit of oneself to another. It is to recognize the vulnerability and fragility of one’s innermost being and willingly place it in the hands of someone or something else entirely, fully aware of the risk even if promises are made to ensure safety and security. It’s always a gamble. Anything can happen.

To say “trust is fragile” is an understatement. Once broken, trust is not easily mended and is rarely restored. The fraction may heal, but with scarring that will forever remind of the past wound. To break one’s trust is to cause irreparable harm. Humanity has struggled for a safe place to anchor its trust from the very beginning. The serpent spoke words of dissension into Eve’s ear and caused her to question for the first time the trustworthiness of her Creator and Friend. She questioned His words, His intention, and His love. In the moment of shakiness, she withdrew her trust in Him. And life has never been the same. 

Trust. The call of man to” trust only oneself” has infiltrated what was good and created a monstrous sand pit in the psyche and behaviors of God’s creation. Now, nowhere is safe. Everyone is suspect. We must be on high alert. Guard your heart. Don’t let anyone in. Have a back-up and fall-back. Watch your back. Paranoia. Insomnia. Loneliness. Invisibility. For how can we be truly known if we never allow ourselves to be truly seen?

Trust. It’s so disorienting once the belief that no one can be trusted settles in. How many TV shows and movies revolve around misplaced trust? Broken trust? “You can’t trust anyone” is uttered when the mission’s baton is passed. “Do you trust me?”, the romantic pull as we watch someone give a bit of themselves to another. “I trusted you!”, the heartbreaking response of a scorned partner… trust is the cornerstone of human interaction. To not have safe trust in anyone, and often not even be able to trust ourselves, leaves us with nothing to build on. We are susceptible to the elements, vulnerable to further damage, and angry that despite all we’ve learned we still wish to not be alone. We can’t quiet the pull of innate desire to know and be known.

When we are coming from experiences that have taught us to tread lightly and to guard our heart and that trust inevitably equals pain, it’s remarkably difficult to hear that we must trust God with all our being. It’s a constant battle. We know where safety is, we feel deep in our soul that He is our refuge and sure foundation. Our spirit calls to the deep and we are satisfied. And then, an uninvited knee-jerk reaction, the muscle-memory of our mind reminds us of what happens when we are comfortable, when we begin to believe, and just like that breathing becomes shallow and withheld. 

The Apostle John had a grasp on his identity in a way our spirits were made to crave. The assurance that, “I am one whom Jesus loves.” allowed him to lean back onto the chest of The Word Made Flesh and rest in His kindness and grace while being ministered to with cutting truth. John trusted and experienced love that heals, restores, stirs, corrects, and accepts without clause. And he breathed deeply. With every inhale, the Spirit whispering “You are mine. Breathe…” brought peace in the midst of trouble. 

So it is still, that the Spirit of Christ, who is Life, invites us to give Him control of our very breath as we lean back and rest in promise.
He is faithful… breathe.
He is unimaginably good… breathe.
He is moving… breathe.
He is with you… breathe.
He is for you… breathe.
He is sovereign… breathe.
He knows your name.
Breathe. 

Trust. He is not a man, that He should lie.
Trust. He is not like the others.
Trust. We do not trust with bated breath.
We trust so we can finally truly… breathe.