Ruthless Trust

When our daughter was nine years old, we found out quite suddenly that we had to move to a new location, and we had to be relocated in two weeks. She was devastated by the news, and flew into a hysterical, tear-filled rage. "Why are you doing this to me?!?" "I don't want to leave my friends! I don't want to go to a new school!" "This is ruining my life! I don't understand why we have to go!" No explanation of the nature of my work would help her. As far as she was concerned, the worst had happened, and there was no viable explanation for it.

Maybe you've had experience like that...I don't mean moving suddenly, necessarily; rather any situation that hit you like the worst possible scenario, and no reasonable explanation was available. You were faithful to a relationship, and still you got burned. You were loyal to a good cause, and you got shunned. You were dedicated and diligent, and still you failed.

Whatever you believe or don't believe about the man called Jesus of Nazareth, he faced the worst. He was betrayed by one of his own. Those who claimed loyalty to him abandoned him. One who said he would be Jesus' best friend forever ended up saying, "Jesus? I don't know any stinking Jesus!" He was humiliated and beaten, and eventually executed. All the while he spoke about and tried to practice trust in the outcome. A favorite author of mine, Brennan Manning calls this "ruthless trust." It is trust that refuses to be dissuaded by the slithering voices and forces around it; trust that holds firm in spite of every impulse to abandon it.

I guess somewhere in our family's transition years ago, our daughter found some reason to trust the pathway, in spite of her loss and grief. We lived 12 years in our new location. Our daughter made friends she has kept for life. She graduated from high school there. She has returned to this town to live and work there. She met her husband there. They've had their three children there. Sometimes ruthless trust works out, it seems.

What's the source for that kind of trust? Think about that. I'll see you around the next bend in the river.