It was a dark path, overgrown and weedy, and it stretched away to the distance as far as forever.
I said, “I trust You, Lord. Trust that when you said, ‘Walk’ You meant this path, this way.”
But even as I trusted, I saw helpers to the side, slightly hidden but still within reach. Youth reached out a hand of encouragement; and across the way, Vitality showed a hint of a smile. Time beckoned me on, and I was able to relax a little.
It was comforting that my trust had help—that I had resource and that I was not alone, not really. I mean, “I trust you, Lord, but I’m only human.”
I walked for miles, for years, comforted by my friends. They were my safety net when the going got arduous.
When my energy failed, Vitality gave me rest.
When responsibilities mounted and rained down on me in an unending stream, Youth gave me the will and the strength to fight on.
When unforeseen setbacks tripped me up and made me desperate for the progress lost, Time gave me years. And I trusted on.
I walked for miles, for years, and got comfortable in my buoyed trust.
The road is narrower now. Though there is a glimmer way off in the distance, there is much ground to cover yet. And they are gone.
Where are the comforting friends that cheered me on from the sidelines, always with the assurance that trust has a buffer?
The trust is narrower now, and I find I must dig in with both hands and bloody heart. There is no Youth, no Vitality, and there is no Time. Only trust in You.
If I am to finish this course, faith intact, trust in You must be enough.
Was it enough before and I didn’t know it?
Is this stripping, this ripping, a surer place to be when the path still is dark and the way still so treacherous?
I will trust because it is all I have left, and perhaps this was the place I should have been all along.