i am still running

 

It's hard to trust people who could break us.

I wriggle and squirm enough when it comes to trusting God (who is good, kind, and holds all things together). When it comes to trusting people who will likely botch things up…

Well, it's something I rarely do.

At the same time, how can anyone expect to live happily without trust? It's impossible to have friendships without trusting other people. As a friendship grows, that trust grows. Trust must happen.

But sometimes making a conscious decision to trust feels like tying a loose tooth to a string and the string to a doorknob. And then slamming the door. The surrendering-yourself-to-inevitable-hurt is a tough, tough thing to do.

A short story by Annie Dillard about her neighbor, Miss White, exactly summarizes how I feel sometimes:

Miss White and I knelt in her yard while she showed me a magnifying glass. It was a large, strong hand lens. She lifted my hand and, holding it very still, focused a dab of sunshine on my palm. The glowing crescent wobbled, spread, and finally contracted to a point. It burned; I was burned; I ripped my hand away and ran home crying. Miss White called after me, sorry, explaining, but I didn't look back.

Miss White was trying to show Annie the rainbow in her palm, the way sun glints off a magnifying glass. But all Annie felt and saw was the burn.

Annie continued:

Even now I wonder: if I meet God, will he take and hold my bare hand in his, and focus his eye on my palm, and kindle that spot and let me burn?

But no. It is I who misunderstood everything and let everybody down. Miss White, God, I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear, and pain. So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.

We were all afraid. I am afraid. Because I know in relationships with people, I will burn.

Community hurts.

When all is said and done, there will be scars that sting. But do I hold out my hand to God, trusting that He (who is far wiser than Miss White) will show me a wonder worth discovering, in spite of the spot? In spite of the burn?

Opening our hands to others, we are opening our hands to God. We say, "We are Yours."

And although we may feel our stomachs clench as fear of potential betrayal drops us to our knees, somehow, I believe in the end— it will all be a very good thing.