For a long time I pictured faith a bit like closing your eyes and leaping off a cliff, hoping what was at the bottom wouldn't kill you. No doubt I got this way by being raised as a worrier, by a worrier -- so OK, it's probably also partly genetic.
The description I just gave is also a description of someone who lacks confidence, and has a hard time imagining that anyone notices what she does either way. You pay a high price for this kind of insecurity -- sometimes you flap your arms around trying to get people to notice you, and in the process you not only hurt your arms, you chase people away.
...Speaking of descriptions, that's a pretty good description of the old me, or should I say the me that God has been mightily transforming but is still working on.
Real faith is not leaping off cliffs. Real faith is faith IN Someone -- in a God who is almighty, all-knowing, and who loves us perfectly. Real faith is surrender, learned day by day, mistake by mistake, one "I have no idea what You'll do, but please do it Your way" at a time. Faith is learning to draw our strength from God, moment by moment. Faith is learning to lift up your hands and say, "Over to You, Father," then to wait and watch closely for His timing and will.
The person who was my primary "worry teacher" would likely have struggled with this definition. Because worry is the trademark of someone not willing to surrender control. It says, "I will prevent trouble by imagining the worst possible scenario." It says, "I will try to predict the most likely (bad) outcomes, so I won't be caught off guard if and when something goes wrong."
It wouldn't do any good to tell a true-blue worrier "Let God handle it." That's like saying, "Let God decide how this situation will work out." Letting anyone else -- maybe especially God? -- decide how things will work out would induce panic in a person who needs control. The irony is that worrying doesn't control anything other than the mind of the worrier. Planning every detail of what we will do doesn't guarantee an outcome either. If, as Christians, what we plan to do isn't what God plans to do, it's bound to backfire anyway, so why not just release control to Him from the outset?
Faith -- the final frontier. It's one of the hardest things for us to learn, especially as members of a culture that so prizes planning and control.
I wish there were a way I could reach back in time and explain to my "worry teacher" that I am safer in true surrender to God than I would be even if sixty foot walls were built around me. He does allow pain and difficulty -- sometimes a lot of it. And His lessons are very hard. But as I surrender, He walks me in His way, always holding my hand. Not the way my "worry teacher" walked me, afraid to let go of my hand, but in a fearless way, a way that says, "Walk boldly, for when you reliquish full control to Me, I remain wrapped around you like a mighty, impenetrable wall."