Do You Trust Me?

We're the only people I know who have two pictures in our living room of people falling down.  But I think that our instinctive attraction to those two pictures communicates something that we value in our lives--Trust.

The first picture is Caravaggio's "Conversion of St. Paul."  The other is "St. Francis of Assisi in Ecstasy" by the same.  The picture of St. Paul depicts God's direct intervention in his life to change his course and call him to a mission of service and suffering.  St. Francis had already been radically faithful to God when he received his stigmata, but his encounter with God was a blessing and an affirmation (if a painful one) of Francis' dedication to the Cross of Christ.

Look at their faces.  And look at their hands.

They are peaceful.  They are receptive.

Both of them only desired to know, love, and serve God.  A moment that may seem terrifying to us--getting thrown off your horse, blinded, and told all your life's work was bosh or getting pierced with perpetual wounds on your hands and feet after a life of voluntary asceticism--was a privileged encounter to them.

Look at their companions.  The peace that Christ gives when you trust Him is beyond the world's understanding.  Paul's companion is shocked and unable to aid his master.  The angel, on the other hand, supports Francis gently and gazes at him almost with envy, certainly with understanding, that this mere mortal has been allowed to participate in a unique way in Christ's loving sacrifice.

Perhaps these paintings appealed to us because they are a reminder of what we too may and must do.  We may trust God because He has "first loved us, and gave His son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins;" we must trust God because no one else is fully trustworthy.

God's call to radical change and to deeper acceptance of His will for us is usually neither expected nor accepted peacefully, especially when we don't see the logic behind His promptings.  Edith Stein once said that God often cleverly disguises His will for us in illness and difficulty.  When His offers us His gift of freedom, we fight His lead and chomp at the bit like a horse who is being led out of a burning building.  We struggle to trust.  We refuse to listen and we muffle His voice with the typing of keys, the hum of meaningless conversations, and the chatter of radio, tv, and music.

Personally, I always hated those "fall back and trust the person behind you to catch you" games.  Perhaps I had been dropped about ten too many times teaching guys to dance.  Perhaps I'm just too blasted stubborn and independent.  Yet, my relationship with my husband more than anyone has taught me that people are worthy of trust.  My relationship with God has proven that trust in something even more immovable than my husband's love and care is necessary to a peaceful and happy life.

I still don't like falling backwards, even into God's embrace.  I'd rather have Him tell me His plans and then we can shake on it.  But He insists on me, like Paul & Francis, falling backwards into His arms.  My Lord doesn't do this for His own amusement; He does it because he knows that when I can fully trust Him, I will be most free of worry from the past, of the present, and for the future.  He knows that the more my husband and I grow in trust of Him, the more we will trust in and rely on each other, rather than turning inward for solace when things get difficult.

My prayer for each of you this New Year is that you will fall into His arms.  Trust Him to change you, deepen you, and transform your whole way of looking at the world.  He loves you unconditionally.  His only question for you this year is, "Do you trust me?"

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