“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths” (Proverbs 3:5-6).
Whenever I hear this verse, I convince myself I know what it means. It’s a simple instruction, but applying it to my daily life is where I fall short. It’s my personal understanding of things that often ushers me past warning signs. “Slow down,” they say in bold letters. “Trust God,” says another. My perspective pushes me into patterns that prevent me from slowing down to ask the hard questions.
Is this what I want, or is this what God wants?
Am I taking too much control from God?
Am I leaving Him room to work in my life?
Is my trust reliant on the character of God or on some physical external result?
It’s my comprehension of my situation that cages me into a certain way of thinking. A contagious way of thinking that confirms I can continue to control my circumstances. It’s my interpretation of what would be best for me that becomes idolized in my mind, where everything I do serves a specific outcome. However, these outcomes and plot lines I want have never been mine to write.
I trust the Lord with all my heart, but I should have gotten that job.
I trust the Lord with all my heart, but that relationship should have worked out.
I trust in the Lord with all my heart, but I still have a backup plan for my backup plan.
Our understanding of what should have happened keeps us from living with a full-throttle level of trust. We say we know better than God, so we choose the path of least resistance. We go with what makes sense, disregarding the fact that God has a vantage point we don’t have. We forget to acknowledge and check in with God before we start our journey and find ourselves lost at the first fork in the road.
My understanding of my situation has no place in the remedy for my situation. As much as I want to believe that I have the answers and can get myself to the other side of my gorge-sized obstacle course, I can’t. Not without God. And for that, my heart needs to be all in. Every piece of my life needs to be infused with trust.
When dissecting this verse in Proverbs 3 to understand its application in my life more deeply, I stopped at the word “lean.” We’re told not to lean on our own understanding, which implies that we must lean on God instead.
To “lean” means putting your weight on something or someone. To rest on for support. The act of leaning involves some sort of contact. We must be close enough to touch what we’ve chosen to lean against. A level of trust is displayed in the act of leaning. Typically, we will only lean into something or on someone stronger than us.
If we were to lean into something with a weak foundation, we would fear it crumbling under our weight. Leaning on someone involves relying on them. Counting on them. Believing in them.
Imagine, for a moment, attempting to walk down a slippery slope. The stairs are slick and potentially unsafe to journey down. You find yourself in danger of losing your balance and falling. You stumble over your footing.
Beside you is a handrail. Except you don’t reach for it. You think to yourself, “I’m strong enough to regain my balance. I don’t need this handrail to steady myself.” But as you start to fall, you change your mind. Except now, it’s too late to grab a hold of the support that was once in close proximity.
So you fall. Pain is involved. Confidence in yourself is shattered at the base of the stairway. We often trust ourselves to catch ourselves when, in reality, the only thing that could have prevented our fall was right beside us. It was being offered, yet we declined its invitation.
We sometimes treat God like that handrail that we didn’t reach for. Because when we choose to lean on something besides ourselves, we are required to give up a level of control. It requires an act of dependence. Not all of our weight is in our possession. By taking the handrail, we trust it to catch us where we could fall. We trust it to keep the weight from pulling us down. We must admit that we don’t have all the strength we need. We have to tell our egos that we need help.
To clarify, I’m not saying that it’s ever too late to take God’s outstretched hand. But I do believe that it’s sometimes necessary that we fall in order to learn. And I think the biggest prevention to us learning to lean on the strength of the Lord is ourselves.
Our egos.
Our self-reliance.
Our independent nature.
Or maybe we fear the fall so much that we blind ourselves to the only One with the authority, power, and mercy to catch us.
I’ve always had a fear of falling. I can do heights for a few minutes until my adrenaline wears off and the fear kicks in. I’m not particularly fond of drop towers, which exist to recreate the free-fall sensation. Steep flights of stairs make me question my ability to walk without tripping over my feet.
I’m afraid of the pain that would come from falling down a steep set of stairs. I’m afraid of the potential for death when I’m up too high. Like these physical fears, I also fear my career falling out of my hands and into a million pieces. I fear falling into a permanent state of anxiety.
I fear falling out of alignment with God’s will.
But what if choosing not to lean on my understanding– often tangled with fear– is my way of grabbing the handrail?
I found this verse that fits beautifully with this visualization. In Psalm 94:18-19, it reads:
When I said, “My foot is slipping,”
your unfailing love, Lord, supported me.
When anxiety was great within me,
your consolation brought me joy.
God wants us to choose Him. Trust Him. Acknowledge Him. Give Him full discretion in directing our paths. He wants us to lean on Him.
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