When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?

—Psalm 56:3-4

We heard the boom. Somewhere up the road, a truck now limped along on a busted tire. Moments later, a man walked into our driveway asking for help. He didn’t have a spare and he was miles from home. Could we help him get it fixed? My husband talked to the man for a while and then gave him the spare off his own truck with a promise that the man would return it the next day. I was skeptical. 

A Lost Art

Years ago, trust was an unwritten rule, an unspoken agreement. It was signed with the shake of a hand. A person’s word was enough. But these days it’s harder. Who can we really trust? Who’s telling us the truth? 

We’ve been hurt—betrayed, deceived, and stabbed in the back. It’s no wonder we don’t trust other people. Even within the church body, the place where I should be able to share my deepest hurts and needs, there is an undercurrent of suspicion and doubt. How often do I shake hands with those around me and smile, but refuse to allow anyone to get below the surface to see the real pain I’m walking through?

Trust seems like a lost way of life.

The Real Problem

Sometimes this distrust of others comes from our own experiences with people who have hurt us. But more often, if we dig a little deeper, we might find that we don’t trust others because we don’t trust God. My journals are full of prayers and passages describing the full assurance I should have in God’s constant presence and power, yet even now, I am aware of my failure to fully grasp the truth that God is trustworthy. I want to trust God, but when I get to the heart of the issue, I realize I’m afraid.

I’m not alone in my doubts and fears. Even David, the writer of Psalm 56, bares his heart describing the struggle between his faith and his flesh. People have done him wrong. He’s been chased, threatened, and attacked. He clearly tells us that he is afraid. But fear doesn’t have the last word. “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” This is a deliberate act of placing trust in God. 

The Hebrew word used here is batach, which indicates confidence, boldness, and security. The idea is being able to place our full weight on him. It means we can rely on God. But the value of this trust is not based on the one doing the trusting. Instead, the value is determined by the object of our trust: God.

Learning to Trust God

When David’s enemies surrounded him, he went back to God with his fear and doubt. He reminded himself that God can be trusted to take care of him. He believed that as long as he trusted God, there was nothing anyone could do to hurt him. His life was in the hands of his God. 

David teaches us a valuable lesson. Trust doesn’t mean an absence of fear. It means leaning on God in the middle of our doubt and questions. David didn’t trust God because his circumstances were safe. He trusted because over and over again, God had been faithful.  

The next day, the man returned the spare tire with a smile and a handshake. I’ve thought about that stranger more than once since then. Because the truth is, my husband didn’t loan the spare tire because he did a risk assessment. He loaned it to the man because it was the right thing to do and it didn’t matter if he brought it back or not. His trust wasn’t in that man. He placed his trust in God to take care of our needs as we help meet the needs of others. That’s the kind of trust that David had. 

Trust doesn’t wait for proof before it acts. It doesn’t need a guarantee before it gives. It proclaims that, even in the middle of the fear—what can flesh do to me? My life is in God’s hands. And that is enough.

Where are you being asked to trust God right now—before the proof shows up? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.