All posts tagged: trust

Can God Earn My Trust?

I have put my trust in the Lord God, that I may declare your works. {Psalm 73:28b, NKJV} There’s something about God I really appreciate. He’s Trustworthy. He is worth my trust. He dignifies me–my mind, my body, my spirit–by earning my trust. And, he does the same for you, too. It’s one of God’s characteristics that draws us to him intimately, personally, and proves that he’s interested in a relationship with each of us and not after our religious actions. He wants to help us understand: life, ourselves, him. By being constantly trustworthy, he says, “I care about you”. And he is impeccable in his trustworthy manner. He never sloughs off his dutiful attention to earning our trust. He can’t. He simply cannot not be trusted.

It’s All In The Reaching Up {A little lesson in listening}

She was the latest of my children to begin the mastery of speech, but once she did, quiet moments were rare and coincided with her sleep schedule. She had much to say mostly about princesses and how Disneyland needed her to come visit the castle. She seemed to have an opinion about everything, and often rattled through her day grumbling or singing happy tunes,┬ádepending on her mood. And she had moods because she was three. She would come beside me and pull me close to her and whisper in my ear. And funny girl, when she whispered, she had nothing to say. She just whispered wind. But she loved the idea of a secret to share. She whispered with the posture of a sage as if her words carried great import. The meaning wasn’t in the words, the value was in the sharing. And the treasure was that it was my ear that she reached for, my attention she craved. So I leaned in and listened for a trace of purpose to her shushing speech, …

Living Like Lew #4 {A Garden of Trust}

Linking up with   We’d lived in that house longer than six months. It was beginning to feel like home. The past couple of years we’d lived like nomads, moving from Phoenix to Taos, New Mexico to rural Washington and now, to this house in eastern Washington up a dirt road hill from Silver Lake. I turned ten just about the time we moved in, smack in the middle of summer. I shyly met the neighbor boy, then another, then the girl one street over who would be my best friend and secret sharer during those awkward years called adolescence. Without school to keep us busy, we explored the woods beyond the cow pasture behind my house; we caught frogs in the marshy edges of the lake; we swam like like trout until we were pruned. Summer blended into fall and huge flocks of ducks and Canadian geese gathered on the lake to plan their southward routes. School began and time ticked along with the daily routine. Before long we’d passed months in the new …