I Will Trust

 

Psalm 62, Our Champion Defender

I am standing in absolute stillness, silent before the one I love, waiting as long as it takes for him to rescue me. Only God is my Savior, and he will not fail me. For he alone is my safe place. His wrap-around presence always protects me (??????) as my champion defender. I will wait for the Lord, who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob. I will put my trust in him. Here am I, and the children the Lord has given me. We are signs and symbols in Israel from the Lord Almighty, who dwells on Mount Zion (Isaiah 8:17-18).

Trusting the God I do not understand is very hard. Trusting the God who allows my son to be burned is very hard. Scripture taunts me. “When you walk through… the flames I will be there; you will not be burned…” but my son was.

I am standing at a point of decision. Will I put my trust in Him?

Though he slay me, yet I will trust in him… (Job 13:15).

-from my personal journal one year ago, November 20, 2019

My husband insisted I leave the hospital and go to our unused room at the Ronald McDonald House to shower and try to sleep. The past 36 hours had been excruciating as we watched the medical team work to save our son. He was stabilizing now.

I, on the other hand, was destabilizing rapidly. The shock, the adrenalin, the laser-focus that comes to a mother in times of emergency, were all wearing off. My emotions approached like a rising tsunami and I could not outrun them.

Head wrapped in a towel, I fell into bed and grabbed my phone. It was a lifeline, streaming with messages of comfort and reassurance from family and friends. I was also a little obsessed with checking it to make sure the hospital or my husband weren’t calling me with more alarming news. My nerves were making that high-pitched hum that makes people grab their ears and fall to the ground begging for the noise to stop.

The words of Psalm 62:2 glowed on the screen, a text from my best childhood friend. 

I stand silently to listen for the one I love…

Help me, Lord, to be silent. My mind is so noisy I can’t hear You, I prayed.

…waiting as long as it takes for the Lord to rescue me. For God alone has become my Savior…

Rescue me, Lord! Rescue my son! I cried.

…He alone is my safe place; his wrap-around presence always protects me…

Yes! You are my safe place! Wrap me around in… wait a minute.

Rage rose powerful, giant, towering in me.

What about my son!!!!!? Why weren’t You his safe place? Where was Your wrap-around presence when he sat in those flames unable to stand up????? ANSWER ME GOD!

I raged and roiled, my fist raised to heaven, my face contorted with the agony of disappointment in God.

…For he is my champion defender…

WHY DIDN’T YOU DEFEND HIM???

I sank into a dark place, a distant place, a place far from comfort. I was angry with God. I wasn’t sure I would ever trust Him again. #suffering #faith #parenting Share on X

When my children were little sometimes they would get overtired and completely melt down. Angry, refusing to be comforted, they pushed me away while simultaneously demanding I make them feel better. Often in those times, I would hold them tight until they calmed down and fell asleep, the storm of emotions blown over. Other times I would retreat just outside their bedroom door, quietly letting them know I would remain nearby until they were ready to talk. After a while, I would hear a small voice asking me to come near again, and I went immediately.

God stood by me like a mother that night. He waited close and never left. He was not offended by my outburst. He did not punish me for my outrage. He waited patiently for me.

I fell into a dreamless, exhausted sleep. At 2 am, I heard Him speak to my heart, His words rousing me awake.

It’s time to make a decision.

Will you trust me?

Sitting up and turning on the lamp, this time I reached for my Bible.

I will wait for the Lord, who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob. I will put my trust in him.

Here am I, and the children the Lord has given me. We are signs and symbols in Israel from the Lord Almighty, who dwells on Mount Zion (Isaiah 8:17-18).

Somehow, incredibly, Isaiah the prophet had penned my very own thoughts. Right then I understood Isaiah and he understood me. We became fellow strugglers.

I thought long and hard about it. Could I wait for God? Could I wait for Him while for all intents and purposes it sure seemed He was hiding His face from us? Would I trust Him even though I could not see Him? Even though His promises seemed like a lie? Or at least something for someone better than me, more righteous than me, someone who pleased Him more?

The thoughts of a mother in pain are not always reasonable. In her darkest moments of fear and sorrow over her children, her logic does not always reflect the Truth she knows in her heart.

Was God somehow asking me to stand with my children as signs and symbols to others that He is the Lord Almighty, the God who saves? Would others see Him more clearly if I chose to trust Him right now?

I will, Lord. I will trust you.

I made that decision out of sheer willpower. Not out of warm, fuzzy emotion. Not out of guilt. Not out of fear.

I made the decision with the most faith I have ever exercised in my entire life. I chose to trust. I committed my will to put my trust in God, even when I did not understand Him.

The words of Job echoed my agonizing faith-choice:

Though he slay me, yet I will trust in him… (Job 13:15).

I rose from my bed and got dressed. I headed back to the burn unit, back to the sounds of children screaming in pain, back to my son wrapped like a mummy and unable to talk to me, tubes emerging from every part of his body. I rose. And I chose to trust.

I am thankful for the God who mothers mothers in their darkest night. The God who stands just outside the door and waits until the full storm of my emotions blows over. The God who holds me in His arms and is never offended with my honest cries of pain and confusion. The God who is not angry with me when I demand He explain Himself to my confused and broken heart.

In exchange for my raw honesty, He floods me with grace and strength to rise and hope.

This is my God and my Savior, and I will go on trusting Him.

On November 6, 2020, the one-year anniversary of the fire, our son got his first job at a local bakery. He has now had seven surgeries and is walking without assistance. He is making plans for after graduation and looking forward to his future at a culinary school. We all have so much more of Jesus than we had this time last year. Suffering does that. It strips everything else away except for Him. And He never leaves us. If you would like to read this Thanksgiving series from the beginning, start here.

@audreycfrank