Hanging In The Balance

I don’t want to trust God.

I have always known that there is a part of me that just doesn’t believe God is able to do everything He wants, or that He’s going to pull it all off the way it should be pulled off. You know, in a way that is obviously best.

When things are going okay, when what I think is reasonably God’s will comes to pass, well then, great—I trust God. What a moment.

But when things are not going the way they should, or if an obviously beneficial-to-God kind of thing doesn’t seem to be coming about, then I wonder. And the worst of all is if I’m involved in it—if my life hangs in the balance. That was today.

I believe that God directed me to the publisher of my book. I believe it. So however it all goes, I’ve been living by faith as I progressed along the winding and long avenues of book publishing. But today was rigorous and, well, miserable.

You see, my book has been in process for two years—two years! And really, it is the distillation of all my Christian life, so if I’m a little particular about what goes on the cover and back of the book, you’ll understand. And, I’m an amateur photographer as well as an amateur graphic artist—look at LifeCourse.org and you’ll at least see why I sound boastful just now. So when my publishing house asks my opinion about various book jackets, I HAVE AN OPINION. And I’ve given it.

Frankly, with several opinions as strong as mine in the mix, it has taken nearly two weeks to settle on a jacket, which I thought we did on Monday. Hooray! While not a perfect, grand slam cover, I liked it. After a good number of duds before it, I was happy.

But this afternoon I learned that the senior editor had chosen another cover, one I have not even seen—and I’m struggling to breathe. I consider the cover to be my signature, a sort of dress rehearsal for what’s behind the curtain, and I haven’t seen it? Plus, it was described to me and it sounded awful. Not just fair, passable or marginal, but awful—terrible. And I have been upset ever since, rude to my wife, short with my girls, and short on words with God.

I have wanted to write email diatribes to my editor friends (at least they were before yesterday), wondering “What the heck?!” but have felt restrained. A big red light. Moments later, the desire to go on a verbal bombing run on message machines at the publishing house has demanded instant action, but I have determined to not follow through.

And, because I have paused in order to listen to the Spirit, I hear, “Trust Me. I am worthy.”

Alright. But I have come back to it again and again—Trust Me. I am worthy—and always the questions are the same—“Who am I? Whose idea was this? Who do you follow in faith? Why do you have anything to write about, anyway? Whose plan is this anyway?”

While my life feels as though it hangs in the balance, there is really something before that—God’s glory and God’s plan.

And I guess He can take care of that just perfectly. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to trust God—but I will. It’s easier when I’m going to bed…hope I can sleep.

Right?