When trust doesn’t seem to make sense

Peace be still, say the word and I will

Set my feet upon the sea

Till I’m dancing in the deep

Oh peace be still, You are here so it is well

Even when my eyes can’t see

I will trust the voice that speaks

Peace

“Peace be Still”, the Belonging Co. & Lauren Daigle

Peace has overcome my heart so worry never can

Hope has taken back that space disappointment had

I believe your promises above my circumstance

Fear could never conquer me cause You already have

…

All the way through the night, you’ve got armies of angels assigned to my life

I’ve got nothing to fear

I surrender the fight, to the One who is greater, right here by my side

I’ve got nothing to fear

“Already Have”, Kim Walker-Smith

Growing up in church, I’ve probably read through the gospels a dozen times. Don’t mistake this for some claim to piety because every time I go through a gospel, it feels like I’m reading it for the first time. Every parable, every word Jesus spoke, every miracle He performed leaves me breathless and absolutely amazed. To have God made flesh in physical presence seems like quite literally the most amazing thing in the world. No wonder Jesus said the disciples couldn’t fast with the bridegroom in their presence. How could you fast when you only had reason to celebrate? 

Going back to the gospel of Luke, I love looking at the recorded human responses to Jesus. As I dwelled on Luke 5, where Jesus called the first disciples, I was once again struck at Simon’s response when Jesus told him to let down his nets for a catch. Now, Simon and the other fishermen had been out all night trying to catch fish. With no luck, there’s no doubt they were utterly hopeless. So when Jesus told Simon to let down the nets for a catch, Simon told Jesus just that. They had toiled all night and took nothing. But despite the useless exhaustion, disappointment and failure, Simon didn’t tell Jesus “We already exhausted ourselves to no success, I’m not trying that again.” Instead, he said, “But at your word I will let down the nets” (Luke 5:5b). 

I doubt Simon lacked a trust in Jesus. To me, it seems that because of the hours of seemingly pointless toiling, Simon and the other men were left demoralised and downcast. Who wouldn’t feel that way? Simon told Jesus, “This didn’t work before”, but rightly followed that up with “But because of what I know about you Jesus, I will do it.” Maybe Simon was just humouring the guy, maybe he fully knew Jesus would manufacture some hoard of fish. Either way, what’s striking is that Simon said he would do it simply because Jesus said to. It didn’t make sense to recast the nets, especially since hours of doing that failed before, but because this guy said to, Simon was going to do it again. 

And what a turnout. Jesus didn’t just let a few fish swing along, He provided such a big catch that the boats started to sink under the weight of all the fish. Humbled, Simon Peter threw himself at Jesus’ feet. He knew his station, and he knew Jesus’.

In my own life, I know what an intense struggle it is to trust Jesus when all my past experiences tell me it won’t work this time. But like Simon, I want to be able to look Jesus in the eye and tell Him, My past and all the pain, struggle and hopeless failures tell me that this time will be the exact same. But this time, Master, if you say it, all that will not be so. You can make it into a redeemed victory. All you have to do is say the word. I believe.

I don’t deserve to be able to catch any fish. I know I’ve fallen short, and always will. I tend towards doubt, a sad reality which corrodes my relationship with God. But when I poise my heart in an attitude of belief, an attitude of if you say it, it will happen, my whole life seems flipped. The past failures become redundant. A new outlook of hope is birthed. All because the direction of my mindset originated from a place far different than my default. Yet I’m convicted to remember that if He does decide to answer my prayer, I become a miracle witnesser. And if He doesn’t, I am still a humbled servant who knows where to look to. 
It often feels like God is trying to teach me the exact same lesson time and time again. Apparently my skull is too thick to actually learn its lesson, because the cycle of injury, anxiety and doubt is still my default. But every single time, God shows me that He is in control and that really, truly, I have no reason to fear. So this time, as I run and deal with these nagging pains, I am looking Christ straight on and saying: Not this time. This time, I will not look back to my history of pain. This time I am looking to you. This time, I believe.