I feared August 9th. It was burned in my vision as a day it would all hit me. Post-wedding, family gone, apartment half empty. I hated living alone two years ago, and feared August 9th meant a re-entry into a place I didn't want to return to. And August 8th came and went, and I woke up August 9th. In my apartment, alone. And God said "trust Me" in the still, small place. If there's anything I've learned about trusting God, it's that he doesn't leave us as we are. Trust has fruit, and it looks like something: G R O W T H. Trusting God means taking risks that have uncertain outcomes. I think for a long time I have viewed trust as a passive thing-- if I sit here, palms up, eyes closed, and say "I trust You", something will happen. But am I seeing God as a genie again, someone who grants wishes? What a sad and small and false version of God. That is not to say that surrender doesn't sometimes look like palms raised, eyes closed-- but surrender and trust mean the opposite of giving up. They are an invitation to let God work in us in a way that we have feared, avoided, denied before. Psalm 37:5, “Commit your way to the Lord, trust in Him, and He will do it.” He will do it. He will come through. He will meet us where we need it, and not leave us the same. But we have to actively commit and trust. Sometimes it's palms up, eyes closed, other times it's pressing send, taking a step, facing the things we have avoided or feared or felt were too far from our reach. Sometimes trust means signing a one bedroom lease not with the fear. I expected, but the joy of knowing God is not done with me, and if I am willing to commit the next 8 months to him, HE WILL DO IT. He will grow and stretch me in ways I haven't let him before. If we want to grow, we have to be willing to commit our ways to Him and trust Him for who he is. It may not be easy, but it definitely won't be the same.