What Changes When We Trust God’s Character?

All month we have been digging deeper into why we think the things we do about God. Whether it’s because we assign human characteristics to Him or we hold on to things that happened that didn’t actually have anything to do with God, our experiences can shape how we see Him.

But as we close this series, I want to ask a different question:

What would change if we trusted God to be who He said He was and do the things He said He was going to do?

That sounds amazing, but it also requires us to relinquish the control that we often want to hold on to. Trust is about letting some things go and allowing God room to work things out for us.

If God says He is an ever-present help, what would change if we actually believed we didn’t have to figure everything out by ourselves?

If God says He will direct our paths, what would change if we stopped demanding to see the entire route before taking the next step?

If God says He can do exceedingly and abundantly above all we can ask or imagine, what would change if we stopped limiting our prayers to what seems realistic to us?

And if God says no weapon formed against us will prosper, what would change if we stopped treating every difficult season like proof that something has gone wrong?

Trusting God’s character doesn’t mean life suddenly becomes easy. It doesn’t mean we always understand what He is doing. It means that when we don’t understand what He is doing, we can still trust who He is.

That’s the difference.

We spend so much time trying to predict outcomes, protect ourselves from disappointment, and prepare for every possible scenario. Sometimes we call it wisdom, but sometimes it’s really our attempt to maintain control.

Trust says, I can do what God has asked me to do and leave the outcome with Him.

That kind of trust gives us peace because everything isn’t riding on our ability to get it right. It gives us hope because what we can see isn’t the limit of what God can do. It gives us confidence because God’s promises aren’t based on how we feel that day.

God doesn’t exaggerate. He doesn’t make promises He can’t keep. He isn’t like people who change their minds, hold grudges, withdraw their love, or say things they don’t mean.

He is who He says He is.

Maybe the work isn’t convincing God to show us that He can be trusted. Maybe the work is learning to release everything we’ve allowed to convince us that He can’t.

And then living like we believe Him.

Until next time,

Dominique

Why Does God Feel Distant?

Scripture tells us that God doesn’t move. He is our ever-present help. But why does it sometimes feel like our prayers are hitting the ceiling?

How can an ever-present God seem silent when we need Him most?

And maybe the bigger question is: What do we assume about God when He is silent?

We tend to fill silence with our own explanations.

God must not be listening.

Maybe He doesn’t care.

Maybe I did something wrong.

Maybe He’s disappointed in me.

But God’s silence doesn’t necessarily mean God’s absence.

Our feelings are real, but they aren’t always accurate indicators of God’s presence. Scripture tells us that God will never leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). Psalm 46:1 describes Him as “an ever-present help in trouble.”

So when I feel like God is distant, I have to decide which one I’m going to trust: what I’m feeling in the moment or what God has already told me about Himself.

There also isn’t one explanation for why God sometimes seems quiet.

Could there be times when God isn’t giving us a new answer because He’s asking us to walk in what He’s already shown us?

Think about a good teacher. A teacher doesn’t give students the answer every time they struggle with a problem. Eventually, the teacher expects them to use what they’ve already been taught. The teacher hasn’t abandoned them. The teacher has equipped them.

Maybe sometimes we’re asking God to tell us something new when He’s saying, I’ve already given you what you need for this.

Other times, He may be developing our patience or teaching us to trust Him without constant reassurance.

And sometimes, we simply won’t know why He seems quiet.

That’s where knowing God’s character becomes so important.

When God feels distant, we have to resist filling His silence with assumptions about His character.

If I don’t know why God is quiet, I can still know who God is.

I know He is good.

I know He loves me.

I know He hears me.

I know He has promised not to leave me.

I know His character doesn’t change just because my circumstances have.

Maybe faith isn’t always hearing God’s voice clearly or understanding exactly what He’s doing. Sometimes faith is continuing to trust what God has already said when He isn’t saying anything new.

So the next time God feels distant, instead of immediately asking, “God, where are You?” maybe we can also ask:

“What do I already know about You that is still true right now?”

His silence doesn’t get to redefine His character.

His Word already told us who He is.

Until next time,

Dominique

Who Am I When Nobody Needs Me?

“Who am I when I am not needed?”

My cousin sent me this question, and I didn’t have an answer.

Being needed can feel noble. It can feel like ministry. It can even feel spiritual. But sometimes being needed becomes a substitute for intimacy with God.

We can become so focused on helping others that we never stop to ask who we are apart from what we do for them.

God may be trying to teach us:

  • to be confident without being the rescuer
  • to be wise without needing an audience
  • to be spiritual without needing a role
  • to be valuable without being depended on

It’s interesting because nobody wants to be the person who always needs help. We often encourage people to become more independent, more resilient, and more capable. Yet lately, I’ve been asking myself what it looks like to no longer be the person who is always giving the help.

Am I stepping into a role that belongs to God?

Am I rescuing people when Jesus is inviting them to trust Him?

Am I making myself responsible for problems that were never mine to carry?

The reality is that constantly helping isn’t always healthy for the helper or the person being helped. When relationships become one-sided, resentment can quietly grow. Good intentions can turn into enabling. Support can become a crutch.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is step back and allow people to develop their own faith, make their own decisions, and experience God’s faithfulness for themselves.

Our value was never meant to come from being needed. It comes from being loved by God.

Maybe the question isn’t, “Who am I when nobody needs me?”

Maybe the better question is, “Who am I when God is enough?”

Who could I become if I stopped measuring my value by how much I help others? What dreams, gifts, and callings might have room to grow if I directed that energy elsewhere?

Food for thought: Where might you be if you decided to help a little less?

Until next time,

Dominique