What is the trust of a child based on?
Is it their own ability to determine trustworthiness?
Hmm.
Maybe their trust is based on their evaluation of the situation as one that looks manageable.
You think?
Or perhaps they base their trust on their own goodness – whether they are good enough to trust their parents.
Or is it on whether they completely understand what trust is?
Ok, I get the point.
The trust of my baby in me is based on – you guessed it – not him , but me !
He doesn’t trust that I will feed and love and care for him because he is good enough, or understands enough, or even because he thinks that I am a person worth trusting…
He trusts me because I do feed him and love him! I have, as one preacher put it recently, a ‘track record of being faithful’.
Of course, the truth is that I am not really that trustworthy. I forget things, don’t notice things, try to feed him when he’s tired, and make other mistakes. But -
GOD doesn’t!
And my trust in Him is based, not on my own goodness or understanding or insight or strength, but on His character.
Blessed by these thoughts today; perhaps someone else will be too.
The God of the Stars
On a speck of dust, midst a million stars, in a single galaxy,
One of a thousand or million more, sits a tiny, troubled me.
The small percent of the speck of dust that my tear-dimmed eyes can view
Is tumbling down around my ears, and there’s nothing I can do.
I stand, forlorn, on the speck of dust, and gaze at the stars on high –
The stars that stretch in their galaxies far, far beyond my sky;
And far beyond, on the other side of the farthest galaxy
Is the hand of the God who holds the stars – the God who cares for me.
To the God Who formed the million, million stars – and named them all –
To the God Who holds the universe, my problems must seem small.
Though I can’t see from where I stand on this little speck of dust,
I know He can – and I know He cares – and knowing this, I trust.
On a speck of dust, midst a millions stars, I lift my head and sing
Glad, though my world is tumbling down; glad, for my God is King!
His hand beyond the million, million stars I may not see;
But His eyes aren’t dimmed by earth-grown tears, and those eyes are fixed on me.
‘Tis good to know my God can see – ’tis more to know He cares;
‘Tis sweet to know He loves me when at times my heart despairs;
‘Tis better, when I contemplate what sort of God is ours –
The God Who formed and named and holds the million, million stars.
