Trust, the Gettysburg Outlets, and Free Chick-n-Minis

Today I’m posting something I wrote just over a year ago. It’s not perfect—(of course) it’s not my complete thoughts on letting go and surrender—but I’ve prayed about it, edited it (for a while 😉), and I’m posting it, even though I know feelings of discomfort, of something being “not quite right”, will follow when I click “publish.”

I am loved just as much by God in my imperfection. I am loved in process, and I can trust that anything that needs to be revealed and purified in me, He will reveal, in His time.

And so, the written-year-ago piece, with current edits:

I’m trying to learn to walk out trust in God, day by day.

Sometimes trust can look like deciding not to bike to the Gettysburg outlets at 7PM at night. The compulsive, getting-doing-buying part of me rises in excitement, as I envision a snatch of shopping (with a deadline! ideal), and yet, my chest immediately tightens with anxiety; the outlets close at 8, the sun sets at 7:40, and I remember that one of the lights on my bike is not working. I also agreed to talk with my friend that night, so I call her as I toss handfuls of shirts and socks into the washing machine, hoping we can catch up in the ten minutes it takes to load the washer and dress for my bike ride. But she’s busy, and when she calls me back ten minutes later, I have my fluorescent yellow bike shirt on, the squeezing still there in my chest, above my heart. As I explain my predicament to her (to bike to the outlets and talk to her later, or to nix the bike ride) and ask if she can talk later, she says, “well, now is a good time for me.” Her words are straightforward, factual, and clear. I have a choice: pursuing happiness through a swift and (likely) anxious ride to the outlets, brief (and likely harried) stint of shopping, and then return ride in the falling dusk. That, or the more long-term pleasure of pursuing my friend and our relationship.

Trust can look like trading my vision of a bike ride for a walk across Pickett’s charge for a talk with my friend, at a time that works for her.

I choose her, and Him.

So I pull off the biking shirt, slip on my Birkenstocks, turn the deadbolt on the door till it clicks softly in the lock, and make my way down to the soggy ground down by Pickett’s charge, sidling along fence rails to avoid the puddles Hurricane Ida left.

Trust can look like deciding those free Chick-n- Minis from Chick-fil-A aren’t worth the 30 minute drive (it would save $5—I mean, really, how can one give up an offer for something yummy, and free?). Instead, I consider that the day is beautiful, a bike ride would be lovely, and I have some reading to catch up on in 1 Kings. So I take my bowl of cereal out to the back deck and search for information on how much gold Solomon acquired during his reign and contemplate the symbolic meaning of Egypt.

And, I write.

Which is what God keeps telling me to do, anyway.

Could it be that the Spirit nudges us toward what we actually want? Toward the deepest desires of our hearts, instead of the surface level, dopamine-rush, compulsive, grasping-buying-now desires?

If I can’t trust God with free Chick-fil-A Chick-n- Minis, what can I trust Him with?

And yet, it’s so hard to say “no” in the moment to something even as insignificant as Chick-n-Minis. Sometimes, to help myself put into perspective the things that pull with such strength on my heart, I like to use some humor: I picture myself arriving in Heaven and right away saying to God (as if this is the most pressing thing on my mind), man, I really wish I had used that Chick-fil-a coupon. I really missed out…I just can’t stop thinking about it. Yeah, right.

Small decision by small decision, He enables me to release my suction-hold from the things I “love”—clothes, food, shopping, accomplishing, certainty, immediate gratification.

Small decision by small decision, He enables me to release my suction-hold from the things I “love”—clothes, food, shopping, accomplishing, certainty, immediate gratification. By repeated pryings, I will eventually be free to float where His current will lead me. It’s in the peace of walking in His wisdom for that moment, in the quietness of less, of “lack”, that I find the satisfaction I seek.

It’s in the peace of walking in His wisdom for that moment, in the quietness of less, of “lack”, that I find the satisfaction I seek.

He is challenging me—wooing me—to trust that the surrendered life is best. Full of life—real life.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10, NIV)

“And where you invest your love, you invest your life.” Mumford and Sons