Tomorrow

Five Minute Friday: Tomorrow

As a kid I don’t remember worrying too much about tomorrows. Maybe this is not true; maybe I blocked out the things I don’t want to remember or to be true of me. But I do remember having such deep trust in my parents that I didn’t need to think about tomorrow. I was safe and secure. I rarely doubted that.

I know now how lucky I was. So many children do not have this luxury of trust. Their tomorrows are cloudy and uncertain, or maybe even sure to be painful, lonely, and full of fear and need.

When those who are dependent can trust their caregivers to provide, to love, and to keep them safe, tomorrows are easy. When they cannot, tomorrows can stretch out into a long path of fear. It’s easy for someone like me to spout off about trusting. I’ve had it easy. It’s a lot harder for one who has stepped out in trust again and again, only to have the ground open beneath her.

Maybe that’s why Jesus was so patient with people, so good at just being right in the moment with them, not asking for more trust than they were ready to give. He started with their present moments. He helped the paralytic into the churning water. He touched the eyes of the blind man. He conversed with a broken woman while they rested by a well. He listened to the endless questions and dreams of His followers, put up with their crazy ideas of who they thought they should be.

But the more people knew him, the more He asked for their trust. And when they claimed to know Him but were still afraid, he rebuked them. Like the terrified disciples on a boat in the dark and stormy sea. Like Martha frantically trying to impress Him. Like a ring of so-called righteous men with fists full of stones, ready to execute judgment. Like Peter in a garden with a sword, striking out in blind panic.

All these acted in fear, because they didn’t want to lose control, because they took their eyes off Jesus and looked instead at circumstances—or at themselves. All these Jesus rebuked. “What? Don’t you know Me at all? Stop. Sit in the storm. Drop your self-imposed tasks that you think are so important. Let go of the stones. Put away your sword. Sit with Me. Look at Me. Hear Me. Go with Me. Receive what I have to give.”

I am here. Don’t be afraid.

We have all planned our tomorrows, and tomorrow is suddenly uncertain (or at least we are suddenly aware of that). We have been forced into circumstances we never would have chosen.

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps” (Proverbs 16:9). I for one want His plan, not mine. So now is the time to trust. If you know Him and are finding that difficult, ask yourself what you are looking at. Are you looking at Jesus?

If you don’t know Jesus—or at least not the Jesus I am describing—maybe this is a time to ask Him to show up. To touch you. To sit beside you. To talk to you. To listen. To be in this moment.

What else do you have to do?