Six: Trust

“Do you trust me… even with this?” he gently asked her. And though everything in her was screaming to say yes, she slowly shook her head. She couldn’t find a way to trust him. Not with this. She wanted to, but trust meant letting go… and somehow, she couldn’t find a way to release her grip. She bit her lip and looked away. It was too hard to meet his gaze… especially if she couldn’t trust him. His silence suggested that he wanted her to speak… to explain herself. Great. She wasn’t too skilled at explaining herself around him—everything jumbled itself and she always ended up rambling. Well, if he really wanted to know, she’d do her best to make some sense of the colorful emotions swirling around within…

“You see, things are a lot cleaner when they don’t involve people I love. It’s easy to say I’ll trust you with anything, when ‘anything’ doesn’t seem to directly affect me.” Pause. Wait, that seemed… cowardly. How could she claim to trust him when it cost her nothing? Had she always been this… scared? Was it even considered “trust” if there were no substantial consequences of any kind? Alrighty, then. She’d have to try the whole explaining thing over… “I guess I’ve learned that nothing I know does anything for me unless it directly affects what I do or how I feel. And lately, I’ve been reminded of plenty of things that I know, but it just makes me uneasy. You ask for everything. Do you have any idea how much ‘everything’ entails? I got used to the idea of you wanting my broken pieces so you could put me back together… but why do ask for the good and healthy parts? Why? Why do you want those I love most? I swear, they aren’t distracting me…”

Stupid ramblings. She glanced away. Away seemed to clear her head… kind of. Again, she made no sense at all. But how was it supposed to make sense when he asked not only for her worst but also… for her best? How was she supposed to explain that she was happy to give him everything she despised… but why did he want everything she loved too?

All or nothing.

Was that it? She was incapable of giving all, but she was selfish enough to be unhappy with nothing. Maybe she could convince herself that she had given everything… or at least that she was trying to give everything… maybe that’d be enough.

All or nothing.

Uneasily, she glanced up to see if he was watching her. Of course he was. But he was waiting. Simply waiting. It always came down to this. He’d wait for her… forever, if that’s what it took. And she? She’d fight him… forever. Why did she want him so badly and yet fight him with her failing strength? I believe, help my unbelief. Ahh, the paradox… Could they have a relationship free of these contradictions? Die to yourself. I’ll give you life. How? Why must HIS life follow HER death?

“Ok, all or nothing. I get it. I want all. I want everything. I want to give you everything. I promise that’s what I want… but how come I’m so incapable of anything? You ask for all and I seem to only give you nothing. I’m so sick of being unable to let go, but— ”

“Letting go gives a better grip.” He finished the sentence for her. “I’ve told you that my grace is sufficient. You’ve told me that you believe that. But I have one question for you… Do you believe it enough to become weak? Do you believe it enough to embrace your weakness and allow my grace to be enough?” His eyes searched hers.

She blinked, unable to find a proper response. Embrace weakness. Become weak. Trust. Breathing got inexplicably harder as the air around her seemed to thicken. Could she let go enough? Did she trust him enough to let him knock down her crutches and let him catch her as she fell?

“Crutches. I’m on crutches and I’m just scared to lean on you instead. Only injured people need crutches. I…need…crutches…” The thoughts rushed together. She could see them coming together. Dotted lines and arrows. Thought bubbles and sticky notes. Yes, she could see her thoughts flowing together…

His tilted chin showed that he was interested in following her train of thought. Complex, yes. He patiently waited, knowing she’d continue… “You’ve asked if I’m willing to let go. If I’ll trust you with… this. I don’t know what that kind of trust looks like. Quite frankly, I’m not even sure I’m capable of it… but I’m broken. I’m on crutches. I’m… weak. I guess, that’s the whole point. I can’t do it and you know that I can’t. Agh. I wish you’d just ask for something I could do. But trust me when I say this… as much as I know how, I want to trust you. I wish I could release my grip...”

He smiled. Jesus smiled. “My power is made perfect in weakness.”