trust walk

Be still and know I am God. (Psalm 46:10)  Did you know that the Hebrew for ‘be still’ is ‘let go’?

What does it look like to let go?

For me, it’s so many things.  Let go of control as my oldest transitions from child to adult.  Let go of fear that my middle’s dreams won’t beat the odds stacked against them.  Let go of the future hopes that blur my vision of the current successes surrounding my youngest.  Let go of perfect descriptions for the imperfections that run in, through, and around everything.  Adoption.  Marriage.  Parenting.  Ministry.

I’ve never cared for the phrase ‘let go and let God’ because I’ve seen too many people flounder under the strain and guilt of it.

Dear ones, this verse is inviting us to dwell in a space that’s far from strain or guilt.  A place of promise.  Hope.

The composers of Psalm 46 (the sons of Korah) had a complicated family history.  However, they didn’t allow their past to dictate their future.  I like the Message’s version of this song’s opening line: God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him.  We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom, courageous in storm and earthquake. 

God is a safe place to hide.  My grip (I can make everything and everyone better on my own) loosens when I’m tucked into that hiding place because in it I remember God’s goodness, power, and provision.  He is El Roi (the God who sees us), El Shama (the God who hears us), and Immanuel (God with us).

Letting go is active, not passive.  I’m still moving, but my movement is rooted in trust rather than control.  I’m watching, looking, listening, and learning.  I’m allowing the accounts of past provision to fuel the courage required to keep my grip loose.  One intentional step at a time I am embarking on a trust walk.

Will you join me?

Laura