Trusting and Asking

If you want to make God laugh, said Fr. Chris at Mass this morning, tell Him your plans.

I had to smile at the thought. It's true, though. All our best-laid plans, our hopes and dreams, our short-term and long-term goals, all are nothing but crude, unsystematic impulses of thought and emotion when compared to God's elegant, infinite, all-encompassing tapestry of blessing and fulfillment, His masterplan for each living individual, brought together in His all-seeing will for the whole universe.

What an awesome thought. Too big for my tiny brain to comprehend. Much too big, especially on a warm, lazy Sunday afternoon.

But really, it's true. No matter what I plan for myself, for my life, my future, God still manages to outdo me in securing the best possible outcome. His plans for me turn out so much better than my own pathetic attempts at goal-setting. Not that I should stop organising my life, setting three-year goals and having a mission statement and all that. But it is sort of wonderful to know that if and when I bungle it up, as all mortals are wont to do at some point or other, if I overlook something, botch my plans, forget to factor in something unexpected, then His plan is still there to save the day. As long as I don't struggle against it, that is. As long as I submit my will to His, and abandon my desires to His plan for me. As long as I trust in Him to lead me, and not to impose what I want, or what I think I need, on His unfolding plan for my life. As long as I don't wrench the steering wheel away from Him and foolishly insist on driving in unknown territory.

Trusting God. If there is something I need to master before I finally become worthy enough of heaven, this is it. Someday I hope the Church will assign one of Heaven's citizens as the official patron saint of all stubborn-but-hopefully-getting-there disciples who find it hard to trust God or other people. When that happens, I will be first in line in asking that saint for help! Trusting the Lord with all my heart, by far, is the most difficult act, the most impossible feat that He has ever asked me to do. It's not that easy for me to strip my defenses away and make myself vulnerable to Him, to submit my tomorrows, my dreams, into His hands, to be led, often blindfolded, over unfamiliar terrain, towards a mysterious and unseen destination, without even an estimated time frame for pitstops or our final arrival!And just when I think I'm beginning to get the hang of this whole Trust issue, something happens, and bam!... I'm back to square one. Well, not really square one, but on the same x-axis point in the spiral from which I started, but one level higher on the y. Pardon the gobbledegook, been brushing up on maths lately. Anyway, hopefully you guys know what I mean about the spiral, about going up from one level to another in the matter of Trusting.

For instance, just when I thought I was getting pretty good at Trusting God for His plan for my life as a single woman, and everything was calm and peaceful, and the universe was "unfolding as it should" under the tender eye of God, all at once I find that I'm a wife and mum, and that it's a gazillion times harder to entrust the lives of my husband and children into His hands, as well. To believe that He loves them and has a perfect plan for them, too. It's easy enough to accept it in my mind, but it's harder to make it actually sink into my heart, to make it a daily, practical reality, this Trusting thing. And I'm well past the theory of Trusting, I think. I've heard all the talks, read most of the stories, heard how others have done it. Now I'm in experimental laboratory work already. I've thunk it all out, now I've got to actually do it.

I was struck by something else in the Gospel today: Ask and you shall receive. The whole idea of Asking is one of my character weaknesses. See, I think I don't ask enough. Like Trusting, Asking has always been an issue for me. As a child, I was never one to ask for toys or books or dolls. Somehow, the "bilmoko" gene must have gone missing from my DNA at birth. But before you build me a pedestal and praise me for my virtue, let me tell you why I consider this more of a fault than anything else. Not Asking is one of my defences. If I don't ask, I don't owe. It's not a virtue, I think, but rather more of an insidious form of pride and self-reliance, a desire to be free from anyone's good will and generosity, and to strive for things on my own.

But the Lord is my Father, and He delights in hearing me ask from Him. He takes pleasure in my reliance on Him. I give Him joy when I come to Him with my needs, saying, "Lord, I need this, but I can't get it myself, only You can do it for me. Can you please help?" Not that He glories in His power over me, absolutely not, although He is entitled to do that, if He wanted to. But He's not that sort of parent. Asking doesn't demean the Asker by glorifying the Asked. Asking creates an invisible link which bonds both the Asker and the Asked in a true and loving relationship, a commitment, a covenant. Asking removes my defences from Him, makes me vulnerable to Him, exposes my desires, opens my heart to His loving kindness. It's not about being greedy, about wanting blessings, about seeking prosperity. It's about putting God in His rightful place in my life, and putting myself where I ought to be: on my knees, at His feet, under His wing. It's about making Him God over me, about admitting that He is wiser and more powerful than me, about making Him my Shepherd and my Father, acknowledging Him as my Lifesource and Provider. As one worship song says, it's about seeking the Giver, and not the Gift.

How long has it been since I truly Trusted God with my life and with my future, in simple childlike abandonment and with anxiety-free knowledge that all will be well?

How long since I last Asked Him in confidence, submission and humility for anything truly important to me?

I come to You, Lord, once more as Your child. Teach me to Trust You and to Ask. Amen.