Jesus, I Trust in You.
What bravery those words require: Jesus, I trust in You. They are simple, yet deep, and completely impossible without the help of the Holy Spirit. What a paradox that exists in them. We place our whole confidence in the divine mercy of Christ; and yet that is impossible without complete submission to the Holy Spirit’s movements. Active submission.
I would venture to say, that to some degree, when faced with major traumatic events (much like the one our globe is currently facing) it might be easier to place our trust in Jesus. Those events are certainly not exclusive to a global pandemic; I’m talking about the death of a loved one, a family member in the throws of addiction, a sick parent, mental health battles, a wayward child…. When our control is pulled from us in such a dramatic fashion we’ve little use in turning to anything other than Christ to offer us a peace the world can not give. I’m sure we’ve all been reluctant inheritors of Christ’s peace in those moments.
But what of the day-to-day ‘Jesus, I trust in You’? I ask myself a question more often than my pride wants to allow me to admit: “Is God holding out on me?” But with very little added measure of humility I would offer, this is a story that I feel plays out regularly in the hearts of God’s people. Isn’t there more He has to offer? Why is He silent in this moment? Where the heck are You in this frustrating moment God?
I’d venture to say that perception of God’s insufficiency is rooted all the way back to the garden. Wasn’t that first sin of Eve’s based in that same question ‘Is God holding out on you? Isn’t there more He has to offer? Where is He right now anyway?’ I find myself in conversation with that snake more often that I should.
One of the most challenging parts of trust exists in the space that is the past. We all hold onto trauma from our past where we can’t see God. Most of the time our lack of day-to-day trust comes from those pivotal moments where we perceive God having abandoned us. We stop trust. We get stuck. Entrenching us even deeper, we label that trauma: ‘This is who I am.’ We don’t even seek to invite God into the past, laboring under the misapprehension that God couldn’t move and heal in the past; as if God’s time is our time.
As I meditate over and disassemble that sentence ‘Jesus, I trust in You’, I can’t help but hear a ‘but’, or an ‘except’. Which of course is like an apology that concludes with a ‘but’ or an ‘except’- it really negates the whole former half doesn’t it?
Jesus, I trust in You except when it comes to my time. I’d like to control that okay?
Jesus, I trust in You except when it comes to my children. I love them too much to surrender them entirely to your mercy and care.
Jesus, I trust in You except when it comes to my pain. I’d prefer to numb it with food, exercise, Netflix, or alcohol.
When St. Faustina shared those word with us in her diary, ‘Jesus, I Trust in You’ I think it is unlikely that she wasn’t fighting the same spiritual battle we are all fighting; with the past, and the day-to-day, and the life-altering. She invited us to ‘Dwell in the Trinity’. Dwell with God as His daughter. Dwell with Jesus, His Son, who wants to share intimacy with us. Dwell with the Holy Spirit, in whose inspiration we can find all holiness. The veil between heaven and earth is so very thin; and the communion of Saints is so available to us. St. Faustina herself experienced the intercession of St. Terese of Lisieux, assuring her that she too would be a Saint if she only just trusted.
So, I want to be the one. I want to be the leper who comes back to say thank you. I want to be the one who stays awake while our Savior prays. I want to be the one who doesn’t deny Him; and the one who beholds His transfigured face. I want to be a Saint. I want to trust in Jesus.
Jesus entrusts himself to me! That’s the irony! He entrusts himself to me every time I receive the Eucharist (which has now become an even more precious gift hasn’t it?). In these Easter days, God’s grace is in abundance. Our Holy Father says the Lord never tires of forgiving us. That is Divine Mercy. Because man, I’m tired of confessing the same sins! It is probable that the path to being the one is permeated by those words: Jesus, I trust in You.
St. Faustina, pray for us.