Why Don't You Trust Me?

Larry was admitted to hospice on 5/19/05 and died on 7/31/05. He was relatively young; relative to me; he was only 55 years old. He and his wife, Terry, lived up a country road and pastured a small church nearby. Larry was a small framed man who appeared very deliberate and a little private. But when talking about his faith he became animated.

Larry admitted: “When I was diagnosed with cancer I withdrew from everybody. I needed to be alone to sort things out. But, I finally got to the point where I trusted God with my life and I was able to go on. But then I started worrying about my family. I worried about my children. I wanted to make sure they were all saved before I died. I worried about how they would do without me. Then one day God asked me, ‘Larry, you’ve trusted me with your life, but why don’t you trust me with your family’s life?’ Then I said; ‘Yes Lord’, not out loud, my lips weren’t moving but my heart and mind were. Such a peace came over me.” Larry shook his head in regret, tears filled his eyes and he said, “It took me all those years! I wish I’d trusted Him sooner.” I told Larry, “I wish I’d met you and had this conversation sooner.”

Larry’s revelation reminds me of a story about Jim Cymbala, pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle, in his book “Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire”. It’s lengthy but worth it. He wrote, “Carol and I went through the darkest two-and-a-half-year tunnel…Our oldest daughter Chrissy…not only drew away from us, but also away from God…she even left our home. There were many nights we had no idea where she was…I tried everything. I begged, I pleaded, I scolded, I argued, I tried to control her with money…But the more I pressed the worse Chrissy got…I knew I had to let go of this situation…One cold Tuesday night during the prayer meeting…An usher handed me a note. A young woman…had written: “Pastor Cymbala, I feel impressed that we should stop the meeting and all pray for your daughter.” My tear ducts had run dry, but I prayed as best I knew…Thirty-two hours later, on Thursday morning, as I was shaving, Carol suddenly burst through the door... ‘Go down stairs…Chrissy’s here!’ I wiped off the shaving foam and headed down the stairs…As I came around the corner, I saw my daughter on the kitchen floor, rocking on her hands and knees, sobbing…She grabbed my pant leg and began pouring out her anguish. ‘Daddy—Daddy—I’ve sinned against God. I’ve sinned against myself. I’ve sinned against you and mommy. Please forgive me…Daddy,’ she said with a start, ‘Who was praying for me…Daddy, tell me the truth—who was praying for me Tuesday night?’"As a father and husband, I’m coming to realize that there are two things which are merely illusions; control and protection. I’m not the Father, I’m not the Son, and I’m not the Holy Spirit. He is where I can’t go, He knows what I don’t and He loves my family even more than I do. So, In light of who He is, and what I’m not, you’d think I’d pray more and worry less.

People tell us all the time, “Don’t worry, things will work out”; but they leave us hanging, without a prescription for our malady. But not so with God! The Apostle Paul has written our prescription: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God that surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”(Philippians 4:6-7)