Trust and Obey - and Trust
Related Categories: Mother's Day
I think the hymn writer got it wrong. The title Trust and Obey really should read, Trust and Obey AND TRUST.
Because sometimes God calls us to impossible tasks and our obedience seems ludicrous. When our sixteen-year-old son was killed in a car accident, I knew God's expectations of me were impossible. I could not survive. I would not survive. I wasn't finished being Mark's mother. This was outrageous. I concluded that if I started screaming and refused to stop, someone would realize a terrible mistake had been made and give me back my son. I think that's 
called denial.
In the most impossible situation, God called me to trust AND OBEY. What did obedience look like for me? What did God require of me? Chuck told me that I must embrace sorrow as a friend. I could not. God called me to worship Him. I didn't know how. He demanded surrender. I would not. I wanted, I needed my child.
I heard that His promises are precious. I concluded they did not apply to me. Trust Him? My pathway was impossible. Yet, I had other children and though they were young adults, I knew they needed me to find a way out of the darkness. I did not want their brother's death to destroy their trust in God, even though I wasn't sure I could trust Him again. In desperation I turned to the only place that I could trust to be unchanging. God's Word. I hooked myself up to the scriptures the way doctors and nurses hook us up to intravenous medication. The only pathway for survival was to constantly wash my soul in His Word, trusting it to be truth, though my heart cried out, "Untrue." But I trusted by going back to His Word every day, every morning.
And still God wanted more. He called me to trust.....AND OBEY.
And slowly, very, very slowly, I obeyed. The obedience was not dramatic. It was mundane but required every ounce of strength remaining in my broken heart. I obeyed when I got out of bed every morning, trusting that when He calls us, He also equips us to obey. But then what should I do now that I was up?
God's Word was a light for my pathway. Jeremiah 29 called me to surrender to my captivity in the Land of Grief. But surrender with purpose and obedience and by choosing life and hope. Through this passage, God demanded that I plant gardens and allow those gardens to nurture me and my family. He called on me to love my family and to encourage them to trust His promises, to encourage them to build families, to give them in marriage and for them to bear children. Though I would always grieve, He wanted my life to empower our children and grandchildren to embrace joy and the possibilities of living with eternal purpose. If I surrendered to His specific instructions, our children would be nurtured by this obedience, this Garden of Life in the Land of Grief.
And I obeyed, fighting to conquer every emotion that tied me tightly in the abyss of sorrow. I met with Him every morning and begged Him to heal my broken heart.
First like a gentle Father, then like a stern parent, God demanded, "Trust AND OBEY." But He wanted more. Give up your agenda (getting Mark back) and TRUST Me to perform My purposes in your obedience. Sometimes our obedience is a teeny, tiny step with tear-filled eyes with little hope 
that anything we are doing will lead to a good result. Sometimes we think our obedience is about big things when God is really calling us to obey in the mundane, ordinary tasks of life.
Sometimes I think God handed me a basket of mysterious seeds with instructions to plan them, not knowing what fruit they would bear. I could not have chosen sweeter, more succulent produce than God is harvesting from our Garden of Life. Where once sorrowful tears reigned, unabated tears of joy stream down my cheeks. Laughter and silliness fills our home when our kids and grandchildren gather. This day I am overwhelmed the miracle of welcoming our little granddaughter from India as our fourteenth grandchild.
God is keeping His promises of Psalm 30, a scripture I returned to again and again, "...weeping may visit in your home for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning..." In deep grief I cried out to my God, "Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me; O Lord, be my help." And He turned my wailing into dancing; He removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my heart sings to Him and I will not be silent. O Lord, my God, I will give you thanks forever.
May every mother whose heart is breaking, take hope and trust and obey and trust.
In His Grip,
Sharon
Since 1994 I have wished I could jump over Mother's Day. It's supposed to be a day of honor, remembering our mothers, being remembered by our children. But in May, 1994 remembering only brought deeper sadness and longing for what was. That was the first Mother's Day I experienced without our youngest child, Mark. Mark was born on May 11, 1977. He died in a car accident on July 6, 1993. The year of 1994 was a year of dreading every morning and every night. Mother's Day and his birthday all at the same time seemed more than I could bear.
Judy, especially when I see glimpses of her sweet, gentle spirit in her girls and our grandchildren. I held back tears this morning when I sent a Mother's Day email card to my two daughters-in-law, who have missed their mother, Judy, since her death in 1989.
For me, this is a day of choices that are more easily made than they were in 1994. It's a day I miss my son but no more than I typically miss him. And it's a day I thank God for the blessings of sixteen years with Mark. Today I will choose a rose bush to plant in his name, as I have every year since his Homegoing. Last year the rose's name was Lasting Peace. This year, I hope to find one that reminds me of God's faithful love.
died a few months ago. I think of the mom who took her own life and the one who faces her first Mother's Day after a miscarriage. I think of the mom whose daughter refuses to surrender to God's love and intentionally hurts her mother at every opportunity.
