I don’t trust my husband.
Well, no, I take that back—of course I trust my husband.
Except for that, I don’t. Not really.
Gulp. This revelation is tough to swallow.
It all started one recent afternoon when we were driving our SUV down a major highway riddled with road construction barriers. I was a nervous Nellie, slamming my foot to the passenger side ghost brake anytime our fender got within 20 feet of the bumper in front of us. When my twisted imagination pictured a truck swerving into our lane, I grabbed for my phantom steering wheel, too.
“Would you please relax?” my husband scolded.
“These people are driving like maniacs,” I grumbled, subconsciously including my beloved among these people. “We should’ve taken the back roads.”
“Close your eyes and pretend we did. I can handle it.”
Yes. He can handle it. He handles a lot of things well. Faithfulness, integrity, deep love for me and our children. I do trust him—with the big things. It’s the little things that trip me up.
Like speeding down a congested death trap, for instance.
See, the issue isn’t my husband’s driving. He’s actually a better driver than I am. The problem was that I was not in control. I didn’t trust my capable man to pilot our vehicle through a danger zone, simply because I had no say in how he did it. Ultimately, this reveals my lack of trust in God.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight,” (Proverbs 3:5–6).
This verse is so well-worn in my repertoire, I can easily glaze over its impact. Let’s dig in a bit:
Trust in the Lord with all your heart: Notice it doesn’t say, “Trust in the Lord with all your head.” My brain registers the fact that God knows better than me. But my tendency to fret in uncertain situations indicates perhaps my heart didn’t get the memo.
Lean not on your own understanding: I like to think I have a little wisdom. But sometimes my own understanding is about as dependable as a generic-brand diaper on a six-hour road trip. Stiff and leaky. Why would I want to lean on that?
In all your ways acknowledge him: I’m pretty sure “all your ways” includes my knee-jerk response to crazy traffic, and anything else—big or small—that sends my pulse racing. Acknowledge him. Remember God is in the car, too.
And he will make your paths straight: God will guide me. He might allow some bumps in the road, but I can trust him with the bumps, too.
God is the best driver. He knows how to navigate my life. He sees the obstacles ahead, and he protects me from things I didn’t even know were there. More than that, he leads my husband to make choices for our family, including how to drive down the devil’s highway. Why do I keep wrestling the Almighty for the keys?
“I’m sorry I freaked out back there,” I groveled to my husband once we reached our destination. “I should’ve trusted you.”
“No, you should’ve trusted God,” he said. “If his plan involves us crashing on the way to Walmart, then there’s nothing I can do to save you.”
Did I mention my husband has a sense of humor? God bless him. But there’s truth behind the joke.
Learning to trust God means daily surrendering my anxieties. It means knowing the Lord has my best interests at heart, and he’s working everything out for good. Some days, some seasons, are wild rides. But that’s all the more reason to buckle up and let the Father drive.