And yet, somehow it wasn’t an ordinary morning. I’d been grappling with doubts and questions, wondering what the next day would hold. The next month. The next year.
I felt myself wrestling with God, claiming the feelings of jealousy and lack of confidence as mine to hold. But then I heard it…
“Do you trust me?”
Rinse, splash, stack. “Yeah, God, of course I trust you. It’s what I’m supposed to do, right?”
“No, really…Do you TRUST me?”
I turned the water off and leaned against the counter. Oh. So He was asking me for real. Of course He already knew what was in my heart–the inner struggle, the tug-of-war.
And now He was laying it all out there.
“Do you TRUST me?”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Oh Lord, I want to trust you. I really do. But how do I go about it? Show me.”
As my daughter’s chatter continued, I felt clarity expand my heart.
Trust is what my daughter places in me every day. She doesn’t question whether I’ll get her out of bed, change her diaper, get her dressed, and feed her breakfast. I just do it.
And I don’t have to question whether God will work all things out for my good, that He’ll never leave me nor forsake me. Those promises are in His Word. They are His words.
So tomorrow morning, I’ll get out of bed and go straight to my knees, making this daily surrender a habit of trust. Releasing the tension in my muscles that want to flex and hang on tight.
Letting Him have it all.