One day, while my son Zac and I were out in the country, climbing around in some cliffs, I heard a voice from above me
yell, "Hey Dad! Catch me!" I turned around to see Zac joyfully jumping off a rock straight at me. He had jumped and them yelled
"Hey Dad!" I became an instant circus act, catching him. We both fell to the ground. For a moment after I caught him I could
When I found my voice again I gasped in exasperation: "Zac! Can you give me one good reason why you did
He responded with remarkable calmness: "Sure...because you're my Dad." His whole assurance was based in the fact that
his father was trustworthy. He could live life to the hilt because I could be trusted. Isn't this even more true for a
Tim Hansel, Holy Sweat, 1987, Word Books Publisher,
"Duties are ours, events are God's; When our faith goes to meddle with events, and to hold account upon God's Providence,
and beginneth to say, 'How wilt Thou do this or that?' we lose ground; we have nothing to do there; it is our part to let the
Almighty exercise His own office, and steer His own helm; there is nothing left for us, but to see how we may be approved of Him,
and how we roll the weight of our weak souls upon Him who is God omnipotent, and when we thus essay
miscarrieth, it shall be neither our sin nor our cross."
Samuel Rutherford, quoted in Prodigals and Those Who Love
Them, Ruth Bell Graham, 1991, Focus on the Family Publishing, p. 106.
There is no situation I can get into that God cannot get me out. Some years ago when I was learning to fly, my instructor told me
to put the plane into a steep and extended dive. I was totally unprepared for what was about to happen. After a brief time the
engine stalled, and the plane began to plunge out-of-control. It soon became evident that the instructor was not going to help me
at all. After a few seconds, which seemed like eternity, my mind began to function again. I quickly corrected the situation.
Immediately I turned to the instructor and began to vent my fearful frustrations on him. He very calmly said to me, "There
is no position you can get this airplane into that I cannot get you out of. If you want to learn to fly, go up there and do it
again." At that moment God seemed to be saying to me, "Remember this. As you serve Me, there is no situation you can get
yourself into that I cannot get you out of. If you trust me, you will be all right."
That lesson has been proven true in my ministry many times over the years.
James Brown, Evangeline Baptist Church, Wildsville, LA, in
Discoveries, Fall, 1991, Vol. 2, No. 4.
Trust Him when dark doubts assail thee,
Trust Him when thy strength is small,
Trust Him when to simply trust Him
Seems the hardest thing of all.
Trust Him, He is ever faithful,
Trust Him, for his will is best,
Trust Him, for the heart of Jesus
Is the only place of rest.
David, a 2-year old with leukemia, was taken by him mother, Deborah, to Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, to see Dr.
John Truman who specializes in treating children with cancer and various blood diseases. Dr. Truman's prognosis was devastating:
"He has a 50-50 chance." The countless clinic visits, the blood tests, the intravenous drugs, the fear and pain--the mother's
ordeal can be almost as bad as the child's because she must stand by, unable to bear the pain herself.
David never cried in the waiting room, and although his friends in the clinic had to hurt
him and stick needles in him, he hustled in ahead of him mother with a smile, sure of the welcome he always got.
When he was three, David had to have a spinal tap--a painful procedure at any
age. It was explained to him that, because he was sick, Dr. Truman had to do something to make him better. "If it hurts,
remember it's because he loves you," Deborah said. The procedure was horrendous. It took three nurses to hold David still, while
he yelled and sobbed and struggled. When it was almost over, the tiny boy, soaked in sweat and tears, looked up at the doctor and
gasped, "Thank you, Dr. Tooman, for my hurting."
Monica Dickens, Miracles of Courage, 1985.
A television program preceding the 1988 Winter Olympics featured blind skiers being trained for slalom skiing, impossible
as that sounds. Paired with sighted skiers, the blind skiers were taught on the flats how to make right and left turns. When that
was mastered, they were taken to the slalom slope, where their sighted partners skied beside them shouting, "Left!" and "Right!"
As they obeyed the commands, they were able to negotiate the course and cross the finish line, depending solely on the sighted
skiers' word. It was either complete trust or catastrophe.
What a vivid picture of the Christian life! In this world, we are in reality blind about what course to take. We must rely
solely on the Word of the only One who is truly sighted--God Himself. His Word gives us the direction we need to finish the
Robert W. Sutton.
Years ago, Monroe Parker was traveling through South Alabama on one of those hot, sultry Alabama days. He stopped at a
watermelon stand, picked out a watermelon, and asked the proprietor how much it cost. "It's $1.10," he replied. Parker
dug into his pocket, found only a bill and said, "All I have is a dollar."
"That's ok," the proprietor said, "I'll trust you for it."
"Well, that's mighty nice of you," Parker responded, and picking up the watermelon, started to leave.
"Hey, where are you going?" the man behind the counter demanded.
"I'm going outside to eat my watermelon." "But you forgot to give me the dollar!"
"You said you would trust me for it," Parker called back.
"Yeah, but I meant I would trust you for the dime!"
"Mack," Parker replied, "You were't going to trust me at all. You were just
going to take a ten-cent gamble on my integrity!"
Uncle Oscar was apprehensive about his first airplane ride. His friends, eager to hear how it went, asked if he enjoyed the
flight. "Well," commented Uncle Oscar, "it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be, but I'll tell you this. I never did put all
my weight down!"
A man who lived on Long Island was able one day to satisfy a lifelong ambition by purchasing for himself a very fine
barometer. When the instrument arrived at his home, he was extremely disappointed to find that the indicating needle
appeared to be stuck, pointing to the sector marked "HURRICANE."
After shaking the barometer very vigorously several times, its new owner sat down and wrote a scorching letter to the store from
which he had purchased the instrument. The following morning on the way to his office in New York, he mailed the letter.
That evening he returned to Long Island to find not only the barometer missing, but his house also. The barometer's needle had been
right--there was a hurricane!
E. Schuyler English.
One problem I remember was a time when our son Bob broke our trust and lied to his mother and me. He was still young, dating
Linda, his wife-to-be, and was only allowed to see her on certain nights. Well, one night he wanted to see her without permission
and told us he was at his friend's house. When we found out the truth, there was a real scene between us. He had violated our
trust; it was like a crack in a fine cup that marred its appearance.
In the confrontation, I smashed a fine English tea cup on the floor and told Bob that to restore our trust would be
like gluing that cup back together again. He said, "I don't know if I can do that." And I said, "Well, that's how hard it is to
build confidence and trust again." The outcome was that Bob spent literally weeks carefully gluing the pieces together until
he finished. He learned a very important lesson.
Dr. Rovert H. Schuller, Homemade, Jan 1985.
There is an old story of a father who took his young son out and stood him on the railing of the back porch. He then went down,
stood on the lawn, and encouraged the little fellow to jump into his arms. "I'll catch you," the father said confidently. After
a lot of coaxing, the little boy finally made the leap. When he did, the father stepped back and let the child fall to the
ground. He then picked his son up, dusted him off, and dried his tears.
"Let that be a lesson," he said sternly. "Don't ever trust anyone."
Bernie May, Learning to Trust, Multnomah Press, 1985, p. 4.