Do You Trust Me?
I fondly remember watching the movie Aladdin as a child. In one scene, Aladdin asks the princess to ride on his magic carpet and presents her with one small but loaded question.
“Do you trust me?”
Aladdin stands hovering above her from the carpet with his hand outstretched, waiting to see if the princess will be along for the adventure. After a moment of hesitation, she finally answers yes. Aladdin grabs her hand and away they soar through a magical night flying over the desert.
And in the weeks after Solomon’s death, I felt God laying a similar question on my heart. “Allison, do you trust me?”
With my mouth I’ve always said I trusted God. I’ve felt His love and care sweep over my soul and experienced the many blessings poured out on my life and happily I’ve responded back with an emphatic, “Yes!”
He gave me a husband. “Thank you, Jesus.” He followed that up with two children. “Wow, God!” We bought our first home. “You are so good, God!” And the blessings continued.
And while, yes, I’ve certainly had my share of struggles over the years, for the majority of my life I’ve certainly been on the receiving end of God’s blessings.
But then the unthinkable happened.
I had trusted God. He had told us to have this baby. So why on earth did He take him away? Why did He give us a baby, knowing He was only going to live for five weeks?
I felt blindsided. Completely lost. I knew, down deep inside, that God had led us to having him. And I had trusted Him.
During the weeks after his death, I had many people tell me how God would work this situation out for good. That God had a greater plan and a bigger purpose in all of this. And I wanted that, really I did.
But hearing those words hurt. And in my broken state they touched a tender nerve that welled up an anger deep inside me.
Wouldn’t have letting Solomon live be good? Wouldn’t he have been able to accomplish so much more, have a greater purpose, with a longer, fuller life? Why didn’t my child deserve to see his later years while others did? Was my child just a tiny pawn in a much larger game? Was he useful for a moment and then discarded away as though he was nothing? Why, God? Why?
And in the midst of my questions, God’s only response has been that same question. “Do you trust me?”
I’ve come to see that trust needn’t be based on my feelings. And it certainly isn’t the result of not having questions. In fact, I think if we have no unanswered questions it ceases to be trust at all. If we knew all the facts and had all the answers, we wouldn’t need faith.
Real trust, true faith, is only found in the midst of questions.
And so I find myself in front of God, with His hand outstretched, asking me if I’m still along for the ride. Realizing that everything might not turn out as I expected, or in the way that my human mind would term “good”, but that it is all in His hands.
And so in those hands I must leave my questions. I don’t understand why, but I choose to trust You.