Trisha Mugo

I have a love hate relationship with Proverbs 3:5-6.

God’s Word, I adore, but I’m not great at trusting.

Oh how I want to live out its beautiful simplicity. How I’ve pined for God to direct my path all these years. But lately, I just can’t help feeling mocked by this verse.

Telling me to lean not on my own understanding is a little like telling a height phobic to climb his first ropes course.

I didn’t realize it at the time. I was too busy laughing, but I witnessed this very thing when my 5-year old cajoled his dad onto a ropes course.

My little guy couldn’t go up alone, and I didn’t bring closed-toed shoes, so my husband took the bait.

Mike comes from a long line of a feet-on-the-ground kind of people, and I’ll never forget the look of nervous panic on his face the first time our son asked him to ride a toddler roller coaster.

I saw the same look on his face as he stared at the five-story ropes course. But up he climbed and never looked back. He maneuvered the course, careful to avoid the many zip lines.

Not my son though. Once he was comfortable with the harness, he knew it was okay if he slipped. He understood he wouldn’t fall beyond the harness’ grip.

My son moved so fast the workers made him stop and wait for Mike to catch up. I lost count of all the times he zipped along, feet dangling in the air.

The ropes course has two exits. Take a bungee-type leap from the top or walk the ropes down. My son took the plunge. His dad took the long way.

I can’t help wonder how many times I’ve taken the long way because I couldn’t trust that God’s grip was strong enough to keep me from falling.

How many times have I missed the fun of zip lining through life because I couldn’t silence the nagging doubt in my mind?

I know I’m not alone. We’re safety obsessed people in service of a dangerous God.

Still, I watch God wooing me up my own ropes course of faith. My feet long for the ground and my hands ache from holding onto the cord that’s holding me.

Lately, I’ve failed at living Prov. 3:5-6 because I’ve made it all about me. I’ve put all the balls in my court.

It’s like I have an app gauging how well my heart is trusting, and I keep checking it all day instead of checking in with the trustworthy One.

One thing about trust I’m sure of, it doesn’t come by looking inward. Trust happens as we gaze upward.

I don’t have enough time to write. My husband doesn’t help out enough around the house.

Write? Ha! I can’t even spend two seconds thinking without my children interrupting.

My complaints simmer on the back burner of my mind, a ready meal of pity when needed.

I bet you have your own list.

Complaints snuff out gratitude, but they pose a greater threat when we use complaints as excuses to fully live.

Our grumbling can extinguish our passion and prevent us from living our callings.

How we think affects our lives in every way. We all know it and probably own self-help books touting this truth. So why not try a proactive experiment with me?

Let’s change our complaints into expectations.

Take this for example. Instead of saying I don’t have the time to hone that gift or to chase that dream. Why don’t we say I might not have all the time I would like, but I do have some time.

Not only does this focus our attention on what we have instead of what we don’t have, an important key to life, but it opens an avenue of possibility that can grow into a wild highway of expectation.

And boy were we made for expectation. Just think about the way children hope. Only us grown folks learn pessimism as a way of life, living a cycle of ever-waning passion.

If you want to live a more positive life and defeat the barrage of lies, I dare you to try this with me.

Rewrite the script of your top two biggest complaints into expectations for a better life. Then share one or both in the comments below.

Let me go first. I’m so busy serving everyone else in my life that I don’t have any time for myself, let alone time to write.

It embarrasses me to type these words. I wouldn’t dare let anyone hear me say this. So why would I put this tract on repeat in my mind?

The rewrite: I owe it to my children and my husband to spend time relaxing and resting, so I can be a better spouse and mom. And by spending time developing my gift, I’m setting an example for my children and leaving a legacy that will outlive me.

Now it’s your turn. What sort of expectation can you write into your life if you could rescript your monologue of complaints?

When Trusting God Doesn’t Come Easily

How to Turn Your Complaints into Expectations