To trust, or not to trust...

About a year ago, my therapist suggested I read Brennan Manning's book, "Ruthless Trust." I promptly purchased and downloaded it onto my beloved Kindle, but I didn't start it until today. I've only read about half of the first chapter, but it's already hit me right where I live.

See, though my whole IF journey so far, I've never doubted God's love for me. Nope, I really haven't questioned that one. I have occasionally thought (ok, maybe more than occasionally) that God knows that I'd make a terrible mother and that's why I'm IF. I've also occasionally (much more than occasionally) figured I did some horrible thing (like a long forgotten unconfessed sin, or sitting on concrete, eating ice cream, or not eating enough shrimp) that warranted my IF. I have begged and begged to understand, to know WHY - to have answers to the thousand whys. I've questioned, and begged, and pleaded, and wept... I've questioned every aspect of my life. I've done everything I could think of to fix myself, and in the process I've thought a lot of wacko bananas crazy things - yet I've never thought God didn't love me.

However.... If I'm honest, I have to admit that I haven't really trusted Him. Not really. There's been too much fear in my heart that if I trust Him, if I really trust Him, I might have to accept an outcome I don't want; I might have to accept that He could still give me a good life, regardless. I don't want to accept these things. I want what I want. I think these quiet truths, which I'm loathe to admit, are why I've hesitated to read the book that my therapist recommended.

"When the brilliant ethicist John Kavanaugh went to work for 3 months at 'the house of the dying' in Calcutta, he was seeking a clear answer as to how best to spend the rest of his life. On the first morning there he met Mother Teresa. She asked, 'And what can I do for you?' Kavanaugh asked her to pray for him.

'What do you want me to pray for?' she asked. He voiced the request that he had borne thousands of miles from the United States. 'Pray that I have clarity.'
She said firmly, 'No, I will not do that.' When he asked her why, she said, 'Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of.' When Kavanaugh commented that she always seemed to have the clarity he longed for, she laughed and said, 'I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you will trust God.'

We ourselves have known and put our trust in God’s love toward ourselves.
(1 John 4:16). Craving clarity, we attempt to eliminate the risk of trusting God. Fear of the unknown path stretching ahead of us destroys childlike trust in the Father’s active goodness and unrestricted love.

We often presume that trust will dispel the confusion, illuminate the darkness, vanquish the uncertainty, and redeem the times. But the cloud of witnesses in Hebrews 11 testifies that this is not the case. Our trust does not bring final clarity on this earth. It does not still the chaos or dull the pain or provide a crutch. When all else is unclear, the heart of trust says, as Jesus did on the cross, 'Into your hands I commit my spirit' (Luke 23:46) " (Ruthless Trust)

The quotes I posted from Corrie Ten Boom the other day... the one about the train going through the dark tunnel. That one hits so close to home because, honestly, I don't sit still and trust the engineer. I get anxious and I do everything in my power to try (unsuccessfully) to fix the darkness and get out of that tunnel. I pray, yes, I pray - I pray a desperate, anxious, pleading prayer, but I don't listen, and I don't let my prayers change me because only one answer, one outcome, has been acceptable to me. And oh how I want the pain to dull, I want it so much - so very much! Yet this tunnel goes on and on and it just seems darker and darker. I've been banging and screaming to get out of the tunnel, but it just doesn't end...

Yeah, I couldn't even get through the first chapter of the book without feeling overwhelmed by it. I think this is going to be a difficult read for me. I hope I have the courage to plow on.