When I was a small child, I gave my life to Jesus. It sounded good to a young mind. Trust in Jesus–don’t worry, be happy. It was simple to trust God; I was too naive to have any doubts yet.
Then I started growing up and life happened. The simple faith of my childhood morphed into the skeptical ponderings of a teenager, then the confident enthusiasm of a young adult who was sold on God and knew how to give all her “problems” to Him and in her own mind, had God pretty much figured out.
But something strange has happened very slowly over the past 20 years. One by one,questions have returned, and the answers I had for all life’s trials no longer suffice.
Life’s deep valleys have a way of stripping away all the sappy spiritual platitudes and cliques that I so glibly uttered every time I found myself in a tough spot, every time I consoled a friend going through pain. God forgive me for the many useless words I uttered in an attempt to comfort a hurting soul, for all the answers I tried to give when sometimes there are just none to be found.
In a valley that just does not want to disappear, I yearn for the childish simplicity of faith that I had when I first trusted Jesus. Oh, to accept His promises without a second thought. To utter prayers with no excuses or second guesses of just exactly when or how God will answer, but to believe that He just will.
Doubts and questions will come with the fears and the tears–they should come. Little ones express them all the time. They question, they cry, they run to Mom or Dad for safety in their fear.
God, deliver me from grown-up, “experienced”, been-there-done-that jadedness. I have no answers but this: I know I am your child and I am totally at your mercy.
I guess that’s the safest place to be.