Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Anchored Trust



                                                   *Photo by the amazing Erica Bartel

Let my life be found in the hand of trust.  May my heart wait, hungry, beating, for your glory to appear.  Hold my hope in your ever present goodness and let me stare with the eyes of a child at your truth.

There are no promises of ease or perfection.  We live, some are sick, deformed, others broken at a whim, suffer from mental atrocities, we die.  There is only the guarantee of pain that we know to be so close in this world.  With trembling hands we build our walls of protection, we are afraid to hope for an easy life, too aware of how possible it is to be taken at a moment.  In our prosperity we wait for our loss.  At every good we tremble at what lurks around the corner.  We have learned that trust is a loose ideal and hope a foolish dream of those unacquainted with the suffering of this world.

We take back our trust at a moments indiscretion or foolishness.  You are not worthy of my trust, you are not good.  How can I ever trust again.  We don't.  We hide in our walls of fear and anxiety, our hope a twisted vortex of waiting for the worst.

Storms will rage and as we wait for them, we miss the days of beauty.  We forget to live, too lost in our hearts obsessions or the dreams of someday.

This is your time.  To watch the glory of a changing world.  To hold close the growing lives that for this moment need your hand.  Enjoy what you have today, because we are not guaranteed our tomorrows.  Love freely, give wholeheartedly, do not get to the end of this life surrounded by your walls of deception.  There is no safety in fear, no protection in our battalions. The more we strive to guard and shore up our lives, the greater the misery that grips our hearts.

Fear will take you far from the path of life.  It will present your death while you stare at all that breaks around you.  It will grip your mind in the broken record of pain and failings.

Trust is like a budding tree, you know will one day blossom in the weight of heady blooms.  It is the foundation of hope that looks to the end of life and blesses its existence. It is not broken by the frosts or the waves that rise, it looks beyond to the cleansing air that breathes warmth and the changing tides.

Trust breaks me every time and hope laughs in the face of my fears.  It places me before the cross with the anguish of my brokenness and the reality of death that restores me.  Good is often found in great pain.  We find his presence in our brokenness.  It is the act of absolute desperation that pushes us into his goodness.  Do not despise the hard places that shape you or the darkness that sharpens your ability to hear.

Let us know God is good.  In the midst of life, let us believe in his mighty love and value for each of us.  May we believe that despite our hurts, the pain that surrounds - his mercy heals, restores, strengthens, loves.

As we live held in the grip of trust, train us to listen to the voice of wisdom, to laugh with the frivolity of childlike wonder.  To be a people given to peace, strengthened by hope, and protected by the shield of faith.

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