Free Fall

Trust fall. Perpetual. Falling, falling, falling.
I know God is there.

But I want to feel caught.

Safe.

Home.

Held.
I want certainty more than trust. 

But thank you, my King, for the glimpses of the hands beneath me that you do give in life, in others, in your Word.

Forgive me for my impatience and lack of trust that cries out—Hold! Catch! Now! Sight, not faith! Certain, not trust! Now, not wait! Forgive me for my heart that beats discontentedly at my free fall you have placed me in.

Jesus,

                By refusing bread

                By not jumping off the temple

                By refusing kingdoms (Mat. 4, temptation)

You stepped into my same uncertainty.

You trusted for provision, waiting with a hungry stomach.

You trusted for God’s vindication and protection in his timing and his way; you hung on there in that space of not forcing his hand, not proving to the world that you were God’s chosen, not forcing him to show himself and act in a way that you could see.

You trusted for God’s way, even if it meant the way of the cross, the way of suffering.

Perfectly.

So I am held even as I free fall, held by Jesus who too, who too, with me, for me.

And you, Jesus, the pioneer of my faith—you in free fall, you in trust, you show me my end: Resurrection. Good. Victory. I can be sure of the catch.

Dear Jesus, when I cannot, when I fear my free fall of trust, when the hands seem gone, you fall with me and hold me fast. Together in free fall. Your perfect trust, carrying me. I wait in hunger, too. With you. I refuse to jump and hang in the blank of waiting to seeing God work. With you. I bide in the way of suffering. With you. For you. Jesus, my offering to you even as you offer all of you to me.